Produced by Annie R. McGuire
[Illustration: HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE]
* * * * *
VOL. III.--NO. 155. PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK. PRICE FOUR
CENTS.
Tuesday, October 17, 1882. Copyright, 1882, by HARPER & BROTHERS. $1.50
per Year, in Advance.
* * * * *
[Illustration: UNDER WAY FOR CONEY ISLAND.]
"THEIR GIRL."
A STORY IN THREE CHAPTERS.
BY JAMES OTIS,
AUTHOR OF "TOBY TYLER," "TIM AND TIP," "MR. STUBBS'S BROTHER," ETC.
III.
The morning on which the famous excursion was to be made dawned as
bright and clear as the most exacting boy could have wished, and Johnny
and Jimmy were in the best possible spirits.
The boat on which they were to start was to leave the pier at ten
o'clock, and as early as six they had concluded the most elaborate of
toilets. They were dressed so much that the effort to move about in such
a manner as not to destroy their general elegance really cost them no
little pain.
Johnny had been up some time before it was light, making such a racket
as he moved about the house, bent on getting this thing or that which
would add to his general appearance, that Mother Brown had jumped out of
bed twice in the greatest alarm, believing burglars were in the house.
He had not only made his own toilet, but he had aided Jimmy in his,
until both were in such a state of gorgeousness that they almost feared
to walk through the streets because of the excitement they might cause.
The night previous Johnny had invested five cents in butter, greatly to
the mystification of Jimmy, and when the work of dressing began, he
brought it forward triumphantly, bestowing such liberal quantities upon
his own head and Jimmy's that each particular hair lay down so flat that
the most furious gust of wind could not have disturbed it. It was fully
half an hour before Johnny, with the aid of an old shoe-brush, could
arrange this portion of the toilet to please him; but it was
accomplished at last, and the remainder of the work begun.
During the first week of the summer Jimmy had taken the place, for one
day, of a friend who sold papers on the Harlem Railroad, and in order
that he might improve his personal appearance somewhat had purchased a
paper collar. Of course he had worn it until it was so thoroughly soiled
that it would have been difficult to have said what its original color
was.
This Johnny used for a pattern, and from a piece of white paper had made
two collars, which had the merit of being clean, even if they did not
fit as well as they might have done. They were rather high in the back
and low in front, with a decided tendency to wrinkle; but those little
defects Johnny was certain would not be noticed in the general beauty of
the whole.
Jimmy's coat, which he had borrowed from Tom Dowling for this special
occasion, had originally been brown, trimmed with fur, and many sizes
too large for him. In the years that had passed since it was new it had
not grown smaller, but the color had departed from it, and what had once
been fur now looked like strips of very poor leather. But Jimmy was
perfectly satisfied with it, since it was large enough to enable him to
conceal the lack of vest, and short enough to leave fully three inches
of his linen trousers exposed to view.
He wore a felt hat with an abundance of brim and a sad deficiency of
crown, while his neck-tie was a modest and unassuming one, with
alternate red and yellow stripes about an inch wide. With the exception,
perhaps, of his coat, it was in his shoes that he took the greatest
pride. It is true that there were several holes in them, but he had
blackened them and his feet so skillfully that an ordinarily careless
glance would have failed to show that they were other than whole.
While Jimmy believed that he looked thoroughly genteel, he freely
admitted that Johnny would have carried away the prize for fashionable
attire had any been offered. Not because his clothes were any more
expensive than were his partner's, but because it might be said they
were more seasonable.
Johnny was clothed entirely in brown linen. Mother Brown had on hand a
suit belonging to her son, who had inadvertently left it at home when he
ran away to sea, and this she sold to Johnny for thirty cents, to be
paid in ten weekly installments.
Young Brown must have been very tall, or else his clothes had been made
in expectation of his growing very rapidly, for the coat, in its
original condition, nearly dragged on the ground when Johnny tried it
on. Mrs. Brown had remedied this defect, however, by making a fold about
five inches wide across the entire garment, which both the boys thought
a great improvement. The trousers had simply been cut off at the bottom,
so that they were a good fit so far as length was concerned, and it was
very little trouble to fold them in around the waist.
Mrs. Brown, without extra charge, had starched the garments very stiff,
so that they would stand out boldly without betraying the fact that the
wearer did not occupy all the space in them he might have done had he
been about twice as large as he was. When Johnny had the clothes on,
with a brilliant green neck-tie to enhance the effect, it must have been
a prejudiced party who would not have admitted that it was a striking
costume. His shoes were not blackened quite as brilliantly as were his
partner's, but the reason for this apparent neglect was that, not having
as many holes in them as Jimmy's had, there was no reason for quite so
high a polish.
As they had anticipated, they did attract considerable attention as they
walked into the City Hall Park, with so much time at their disposal that
they were not obliged to hurry in order to keep their engagement. Even
the men looked at them with no slight degree of interest, while the boys
proved their admiration by greeting them with all kinds of criticism,
some less complimentary than others. Some of the boys Johnny spoke with
kindly, as if to show that even if he was magnificent, he was not proud;
but others he paid no attention to whatever, giving as a reason to Jimmy
that when they were dressed as they were he thought that some
distinction should be made by them between the reputable newspaper
merchants and those whose credit had been impaired by their own
misdeeds.
Very many of their acquaintances in business knew about "their girl,"
and also knew of the accident she had met with, therefore they readily
understood by the display of costumes that Katy was to be released from
the hospital. Nearly all of them sent some message of congratulation to
the black-pin girl that her recovery was complete, and one even offered
to loan the boys ten cents, without other security than their word, if
they were going to take "their girl" out for a good time.
Jimmy would have accepted this offer eagerly, for their funds were so
limited that even the slightest addition would have been welcome; but
Johnny prevented him at once by saying to the would-be lender:
"We're much obliged to yer, Jack, and we'll do the same for you some
time; but yer see we couldn't think of takin' Katy out on borrowed
money, for she wouldn't have as good a time if she knew it."
Then the boys walked directly to the hospital, arriving there some time
before eight o'clock, and for more than an hour were they obliged to
wait in the street, suffering greatly from the heat and their fear lest
they should disarrange their carefully made toilets.
It seemed as if Katy must have been as impatient for the meeting as they
were, for just at nine o'clock she came out of the hospital gates,
looking pale and worn, but as happy as she ever was in her life. She had
on the new dress, and even though it was not made in the latest fashion,
nor of the richest materials, the boys were very much surprised by the
improvement in her appearance.
"You look like a reg'lar swell!" exclaimed Johnny, approvingly, and then
he turned slowly around in front of her, that she might see and admire
him.
"I hain't sure but the dress looks jest as well as if it was red," said
Jimmy, too much "dressed up" even to rub his chin, and then he too began
to revolve for Katy's benefit. For some moments it was truly a mutual
admiration society of three members.
Then after they had sufficiently complimented each other, and after Katy
had vainly tried to thank the boys for their kindness, Johnny announced
the programme for the day, explaining that the excursion was necessary
as a means of showing their thankfulness for the recovery of "their
girl."
"We're goin' to be reg'lar folks, ain't we?" cried Katy, when, to her
great pleasure, the boys led the way to the nearest elevated railroad
station, thus giving her the opportunity of having such a ride as she
had long desired.
"I guess you'll think so before we get back," replied Johnny, decidedly;
and when he paid thirty cents for the ride, thereby diminishing their
funds sadly, he looked at Katy in a satisfied way, happy at being able
to give her so much pleasure.
At the steamboat pier they mingled with the crowd that would probably
spend more money than they, but yet have less enjoyment, and it was as
much as Katy could do to see everything around her, so many times did
she look at her dress--new and whole.
During the sail Ikey Moses had no reason to complain that the boys did
not keep their word in regard to patronizing him, for hardly five
minutes went by without their making a purchase of some kind. Katy had
pea-nuts, apples, candy, and cakes piled up on the seat in front of her
until it seemed certain that if she ate them all she would be obliged to
return to the hospital.
When the boys were not gladdening Ikey Moses' heart by buying his wares,
they were busily engaged in pointing out to Katy the different points of
interest in the harbor, or in telling her of the wonderful things she
was to see; and in this way the time passed so rapidly that before it
seemed possible they could have been away from the pier ten minutes they
were at Coney Island.
Having spent so much of their wealth on the steamer, it was necessary
for them to be careful of their money if they expected to get any
dinner, and in order that the purchases might be made more judiciously,
Jimmy gave his portion of the funds to Johnny, thereby making him
responsible for the manner in which the forty remaining cents were
spent.
If they did not have quite as much money, they felt of just as much
importance as any one on the beach, and they walked along in all the
glory of good clothes and a contented mind. They would have enjoyed a
swim--at least the boys would--but bathing suits were necessary; and
after Johnny had vainly tried to persuade the man at the bath-house that
ten cents ought to be enough for the hire of three suits, they concluded
that perhaps they ought not waste so much time in the water, when they
could be sight-seeing.
Never before had the three been on an excursion "dressed up," and they
enjoyed their own condition quite as much as they did that which they
saw. Even the dinner was a success, for Johnny bought one plate of
chowder, with crackers for three, and on the clean though rather warm
sand they sat around the one plate, quite as contented as if they had
had all that money could buy.
It was not until the last trip of the boat on which Ikey Moses was
employed that they started for home, and then they gave their friend no
extra work in waiting upon them, for they had such a trifling sum in the
treasury--that is to say, in Johnny's pockets--that they would be able
to buy only a small stock of papers the next morning.
But they insisted on introducing Ikey to Katy, and obliged him to hear a
detailed account of the manner in which they celebrated the release of
"their girl" from the hospital. Katy very obligingly stood up that
Master Moses could see her dress from every point of view, and long and
loud was the discussion the boys entered into as to what color would
have been the most beautiful, for they all condemned Mrs. Spratt's taste
in the matter.
It was well that they had not arranged to spend more than one day at the
sea-shore, for the costume of the boys was not well calculated to stand
much service. As it was, the starch had departed so entirely from
Johnny's clothes that they hung limp and in folds around him, while the
improvised paper collars were such a wreck that they were discarded
before the party reached home.
By some means the secret of where they were going had been discovered by
their friends, and when they landed they found as many as twenty waiting
to greet Katy, as well as to learn all the particulars of this excursion
which had been made in such a fashionable manner, so far as clothes were
concerned.
It was not until a late hour that night that Mother Brown's boarders
retired, and just before they did go to bed they startled the old lady
out of her first sleep and a portion of her senses by giving three
rousing cheers for Johnny, Jimmy, and "their girl."
THE END.
"JUST LIKE A COMET!"
BY JOSEPHINE POLLARD.
A little maid, so wondrous wise
In speech, and with observing eyes,
Was wakened at the early morn,
And to an eastern window borne,
That she might see the comet bright,
And nevermore forget the sight.
The shining star was pointed out,
Its head with splendor rayed about,
And then, outspreading like a dress,
Its train of dazzling loveliness,
And all the points that made it far
More beautiful than any star.
The little maiden gazed, and gazed;
At such a wonder much amazed;
And never had she seen before
The morning sky so spangled o'er,
Or fancied that the silver moon
Staid out so late, or rose so soon.
The stars kept winking overhead,
As if they longed to be in bed,
And two bright orbs in mamma's lap
Were closed to finish out their nap,
While still the comet swept the skies,
The marvel of admiring eyes.
Next day within the nursery
The little maiden chanced to be,
When baby was on dress parade,
Its pretty finery well displayed,
As high in nurse's arms 'twas held
With all its frowns and fears dispelled.
Its flaxen head, with aureole bright,
Its lengthy train of dazzling white,
Were noted by the maid so wise,
Who stood, with widely opened eyes,
And said, "It looks"--her speech was slow--
"_Just like a comet!_" And 'twas so.
[Illustration: "I DO LOVE DOLLY SO MUCH!"]
THE IGUANA.
BY HELEN S. CONANT.
The iguana is a very large and very ugly-looking lizard, which is found
all through the American tropics. It measures fully five feet in length,
its body being over two feet, and its long tapering tail nearly three.
It is covered with scales, and its usual color is green shaded with
brown. Iguanas possess, however, to an extent exceeded only by the
chameleon, the power of changing their colors, the brilliant green
becoming transformed in an instant, through the influence of fear or
anger, into darker hues, or even into black.
The eyes of the iguana are large, as is also its head, while a pouch,
serrated in front, depends from the lower jaw. It also has a serrated
tuft, like a comb, extending along its back and half the length of its
tail. Its legs are long, and its feet are armed with strong claws, which
enable it to climb about among the branches of the trees with the
greatest rapidity.
One would think that so large a creature would be slow and clumsy in its
movements, but no squirrel or small lizard could be lighter and more
active than the iguana. It is as much at home in the water as on the
land, and can remain under the surface a long time without coming up to
breathe. When swimming, it propels itself ahead with marvellous
quickness by waving its long tail from side to side, and using its paws
very much in the manner that a boy would use his arms.
A singular instance of the power and velocity of the iguana is related
by an English traveller. On the bank of a river he came suddenly upon
one of these huge lizards lying concealed in the tall grass. Alarmed by
the appearance of a man, whom the iguana recognizes as its deadly enemy,
the creature sprang into the water; but in place of swimming, so great
was the force of its spring that it skimmed across the broad river,
scarcely touching the surface with its feet. In two minutes it reached
the sand-banks of the opposite shore, and vanished among the bushes.
Although of such immense size, the weight of the iguana is scarcely ten
pounds, which fact probably accounts for its extreme lightness of
motion.
It is not very pleasant for a person of civilized taste to think of
eating a lizard, but the flesh of the iguana is considered a great
delicacy. Indians hunt it with bows and arrows, and when brought to
market it is sold for a high price. Another method of catching it is to
slip a noose around its neck as it sits in fancied security upon the
branch of a tree. The country people roast it in hot ashes, and the meat
is said to be tender and juicy, and very delicate in flavor. The eggs,
too, which are rich and oily, are favorite eating. They are about as
large as a dove's eggs, and of a glistening white. The iguana buries
them, eighteen or twenty together, in a hole in the sand, and leaves
them to be hatched by the sun.
The little ones are left to take care of themselves as best they can.
Humboldt, the great traveller and naturalist, found nests of young
iguanas which were apparently just hatched. They were not over four
inches long, and were very spry little things, and much prettier than
later on in their lizard life.
The iguana will never attack an enemy, but when cornered, is a valiant
fighter. It will hiss and spit like a cat, and erecting the comb on its
back, it will spring at its enemy, dealing powerful blows with its tail,
and biting with its sharp teeth. The following story is told by an
Australian settler of an encounter between an iguana and a snake: "I saw
a heavy fight the other day between a large iguana and a tree-snake
about five feet long. They were both going to pay a visit to a ''possum'
which lived in a big hole in a tree. Each went up a different side of
the tree, and met at the entrance to the hole, and then the row began.
The great lizard squealed in a most defiant manner, and the snake was in
no way behindhand in hissing. In fact, strong reptile language filled
the air for fully ten minutes before the fight commenced; then they went
at it. But the iguana was too much for the snake, and killed him in a
few minutes, seeming to take no notice of a good many bites, for the
snake fought pluckily. The ''possum' profited by this chance to escape
to a top limb of the tree, where he sat blinking in the sunlight, till
presently a great eagle-hawk came swooping down on him, and was carrying
him off, when I put in a word, or rather a charge of shot, and so earned
2_s._ 6_d._, that is, head-money."
Iguanas which have been captured have at first acted in a most violent
manner, hissing and snapping at everything which approached the cage;
but they soon grow accustomed to captivity, and will become so tame as
to take lettuce leaves and other food from the hands of the keeper. But
confinement is not healthy for these large creatures, and they lie
sluggishly in their cages, taking no notice of their surroundings, and
doing nothing but eat, until by degrees they shrivel up and die.
[Illustration: THE IGUANA.]
THE CRUISE OF THE CANOE CLUB.[1]
[1] Begun in No. 146, HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
BY W. L. ALDEN,
AUTHOR OF "THE MORAL PIRATES," "THE CRUISE OF THE 'GHOST,'" ETC., ETC.
CHAPTER X.
Charley and Harry took in their sails, keeping the canoes head to sea
with an occasional stroke of the paddle. When all was made snug, and the
moment for turning the canoes had arrived, they realized that they were
about to attempt the most hazardous feat of the whole cruise.
"Can we do it?" asked Harry, doubtfully.
"We've got to do it," replied Charley.
"Why can't we unship our rudders and back water till we get to the
reeds?"
"It might be possible, but the chances are that we would be swamped. The
seas would overtake us, and we couldn't keep out of the way of them. No,
we've got to turn around and sail back in the regular way."
"You know best, of course," said Harry; "but what's the use of taking in
our sails before we turn around? We'll have trouble in setting them
again with the wind astern."
"We can turn the canoes quicker without sails than we could with the
sails set, and every second that we can gain is worth something.
Besides, if we are capsized, it will be an advantage to have the sails
furled. But we're wasting time. Let your canoe get right astern of mine,
so that mine will keep a little of the sea off of you; then watch for
two or three big seas, and turn your canoe when they have passed."
Harry followed his friend's instructions, and succeeded in turning his
canoe without accident. Then Charley, getting into the lee of the
_Sunshine_, did his best to imitate Harry's successful feat. He managed
to turn the canoe, but while in the act a heavy sea rolled into the
cockpit and filled the _Midnight_ absolutely full. The beef bladders,
however, kept the canoe afloat, but she lay like a log on the water, and
every successive wave swept over her.
Charley did not lose his presence of mind. He shouted to Harry to run up
his sail and keep his canoe out of the way of the seas, and then he
busied himself shaking out the reef of his mainsail, so that he could
set the whole sail. The moment the canoe felt the strain of her canvas
she began to rush through the water in spite of her great weight, and no
more seas came aboard her. Steering with one hand, Charley bailed with
his hat with such energy that he soon freed the canoe of water.
Meanwhile he rapidly overtook Harry, and reached the reeds, while the
_Sunshine_ was a quarter of a mile behind him.
Tom and Joe were found sitting in their canoes and suffering the pangs
of hunger. Charley put on dry clothes, while Harry prepared a lunch of
dried beef and crackers, after which the canoeists resigned themselves
as cheerfully as they could to spending the rest of the afternoon and
the night in the reeds. It was not a pleasant place, but the wind kept
the mosquitoes away, and the boys managed to fall asleep soon after
sunset. The wind died out during the night, and the boys found, the next
morning, that only a few rods below the place where they had spent the
night there was an open channel by which they could easily have reached
the shore. This was rather aggravating, and it increased the disgust
with which they remembered Lake St. Peter and its reed-lined shores.
The voyage down the St. Lawrence seemed monotonous after the excitement
of running the Magog rapids, and the various adventures of the sail down
the Richelieu. The St. Lawrence has very little shade along its banks,
for, owing to the direction in which it runs, the sun shines on the
water all day long. The weather was exceedingly hot while the boys were
on the river, and on the third day after leaving Lake St. Peter they
suffered so greatly that they were afraid to stay on the water lest they
should be sunstruck. Going ashore on the low sandy bank, they were
unable to find a single tree, or even a hillock large enough to afford
any shade. They thought of drawing the canoes ashore, and sitting in the
shade of them, but there was not a breath of air stirring, and the very
ground was so hot that it almost scorched their feet. Half a mile away
on a meadow they saw a tree, but it was far too hot to think of walking
that distance. They decided at last to get into their canoes and to
paddle a few rods farther, to a place where a small stream joined the
river, and where they hoped to find the water somewhat cooler for
bathing.
On reaching the mouth of the little stream the bows of the canoes were
run ashore, so that they would not float away, and the boys, hastily
undressing, sprang into the water. They had a delightful bath, and it
was not until they began to feel chilly that they thought of coming out
and dressing. Tom was the first to go ashore, and as he was wading out
of the water, he suddenly felt himself sinking in the sand. Harry and
Joe attempted to land a few yards from the place where Tom was trying to
drag his feet out of the clinging sand, and they too found themselves in
the same difficulty. Harry at once perceived what was the matter, and,
making frantic efforts to get to the shore, cried out to his comrades
that they were caught in a quicksand.
The struggles made by the three boys were all in vain. When they tried
to lift one foot out of the sand, the other foot would sink still
deeper. It was impossible for them to throw themselves at full length on
the quicksand, for there were nearly two feet of water over it, and they
were not close enough together to give one another any assistance. By
the time Charley fully understood the peril they were in, Tom had sunk
above his knees in the sand, and Joe and Harry, finding that they could
not extricate themselves, were waiting with white faces and trembling
lips for Charley to come to their help.
Charley knew perfectly well that if he ventured too near the other boys,
he would himself be caught in the quicksand, and there would be no hope
that any of them could escape. Keeping his presence of mind, he swam to
the stern of one of the canoes, set it afloat, and pushed it toward Tom,
so that the latter could get hold of its bow. He then brought two other
canoes to the help of Joe and Harry; and when each of the three
unfortunate canoeists was thus furnished with something to cling to, he
climbed into his own canoe.
"What are we to do now?" asked Harry.
"Just hold on to your canoes until I can tow them out into the stream.
You can't sink while you hang on to them."
"Won't the canoes sink with us?" asked Tom.
"Not a bit of it. You wouldn't sink yourselves if you could lie down
flat on the quicksand. I was caught in a quicksand once, and that's the
way I saved myself."
"I hope it's all right," exclaimed Joe; "but it seems to me that you'll
have to get a derrick to hoist me out. But I'm not complaining. I can
hang on to my canoe all day, only I don't want to be drowned and buried
both at the same time."
Charley, meanwhile, was busily making his canoe fast to Tom's canoe with
his painter. When this was done, he paddled away from the shore with all
his might, while Tom tried to lift himself out of the quicksand by
throwing the weight of his body on the canoe. Slowly Tom and his canoe
yielded to the vigorous strokes of Charley's paddle, and were towed out
into deep water. By the same means Joe and Harry were rescued, and then
the entire fleet--Charley paddling, and the others swimming and pushing
their canoes--floated a short distance down stream, and finally landed
where the sand was firm and hard.
"What should we have done if you'd got into the quicksand, as we did?"
said Harry to Charley, as they were dressing.
"By this time we should all have disappeared," replied Charley.
"I shall never go ashore again while we're on this river without making
sure that I'm not walking into a quicksand," continued Harry. "It was
awful to find myself sinking deeper and deeper, and to know that I
couldn't help myself."
"Very likely there isn't another quicksand the whole length of the St.
Lawrence," said Charley. "However, it's well enough to be careful where
we land. I've noticed that where a little stream joins a big one the
bottom is likely to be soft; but, after all, a regular dangerous
quicksand isn't often met. I never saw but one before."
"Tell us about it," suggested Joe.
"No; we've talked enough about quicksands, and the subject isn't a
cheerful one. Do you see that pile of boards? Let's make a board shanty,
and go to sleep in it after we've had some lunch. It will be too hot to
paddle before the end of the afternoon."
A shanty was easily made by leaning a dozen planks against the top of
the pile of boards, and after a comfortable lunch the boys took a long
nap. When they awoke they were disgusted to find that their canoes were
high and dry two rods from the edge of the water. They had reached a
part of the river where the tide was felt, and without knowing it they
had gone ashore at high tide. They had to carry the canoes, with all
their contents, down to the water, and as the receding tide had left a
muddy and slippery surface to walk over, the task was not a pleasant
one. They congratulated themselves that they had not gone ashore at low
tide, in which case the rising of the water during the night would have
carried away the canoes.
Sailing down the river with a gentle breeze, and with the help of the
ebbing tide, the canoeists came to the mouth of a small river which
entered the St. Lawrence from the north. They knew by means of the map
that the small river was the Jacques Cartier. It was a swift, shallow,
and noisy stream, flowing between high, precipitous banks, and spanned
by a lofty and picturesque bridge. Taking in their sails, the boys
entered the Jacques Cartier, picking their way carefully among the
rocks, and making headway very slowly against the rapid current. They
stopped under the bridge, just above which there was an impassable
rapid, and went ashore for lunch.
Near by there was a saw-mill, and from one of the workmen who came to
look at the canoes the boys heard wonderful reports of the fish to be
caught in the stream. It was full of salmon--so the man said--and about
nine miles from its mouth there was a pool where the trout actually
clamored to be caught. The enthusiasm of the canoeists was kindled; and
they resolved to make a camp on the bank of the stream, and to spend a
few days in fishing.
After having thus excited his young hearers, the workman cruelly told
them that the right to fish for salmon was owned by a man living in
Montreal, and that any one catching a salmon without permission would be
heavily fined. The trout, however, belonged to nobody, and the boys,
though greatly disappointed about the salmon, would not give up their
plan of trout fishing. They hired two carts from a farmer living a short
distance from the river, and placing their canoes on the carts, walked
beside them over a wretchedly rough road until they reached a place deep
in the woods, where a little stream, icy cold, joined the Jacques
Cartier. Just before entering the latter the little stream formed a
quiet pool, in which the trout could be seen jumping. The point of land
between the trout stream and the river was covered with a carpet of soft
grass, and on this the canoes were placed and made ready to be slept in.
The workman at the mouth of the Jacques Cartier had not exaggerated the
number of trout in the pool. It was alive with fish. The boys were
charmed with the beauty of their camping ground and the luxury of their
table. It was rather tiresome to walk two miles every day to the nearest
farm-house for milk, but with the milk rice griddle-cakes were made, and
upon these and fresh-killed trout the canoeists feasted for three
delightful days.
[Illustration: "THEY FOUND A BEAR FEASTING UPON THE REMAINS OF THEIR
BREAKFAST."]
They had one real adventure while on the Jacques Cartier. One day when
they returned to their camp from an exploration of the upper part of the
trout stream, they found a bear feasting upon the remains of their
breakfast and their bottle of maple syrup, which he had upset and
broken. The animal was full-grown, and looked like a very ugly customer;
but no sooner did he see the boys than he started on a rapid run for the
woods. By the time the boys had found their pistols and were ready to
follow him, the bear had disappeared, and though they hunted for him all
the rest of the day they could not find him. Had the bear taken it into
his head to hunt the boys, he would probably have been much more
successful, for their pistol-bullets would have had little effect upon
him, except to sharpen his appetite for tender and wholesome boy's-meat.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
HANDICRAFT.
BY HUGH CRAIG.
It is the practice in some families to have each child taught some
common useful work or handicraft. There are two families which in regard
to wealth and social position may be said to stand as high as any in
this world where great attention is paid to this kind of training.
The young Rothschilds are all made to use their hands, and the sons and
grandsons of the Emperor of Germany have been regularly instructed in
various trades. The old Kaiser has a room in his palace at Berlin where
he can read books that have been bound by the Crown Prince, and sit in
chairs made by his grandson.
I often think we would all be happier if we followed the example thus
set. I do not fancy that either the kings of men or the kings of money
have educated their children in this way under any belief that they
might be compelled to get their living by the labor of their hands. If
the Rothschilds were to be bankrupt, and the Hohenzollerns driven into
exile, the former could always make a livelihood as business men, and
the latter as officers and commanders in an army.
It is not, then, to provide against any possible accidents to their
fortunes that they have been taught other work than that which they are
called on as princes and bankers to spend their lives in doing. It has
been rather to teach them habits of patience and industry in doing work
where no hope of gain or fame is present to urge the worker on. We can
all take pains when we want to make money or get some reputation, but
very few of us think that whatever is worth doing at all is worth doing
well and in a workman-like manner, although it is merely a pastime.
There is another view of the question which must not be left out of
sight. We are all of us very fond of using our hands, and if we do not
use them to make something, we use them to destroy something. In this
respect girls are generally better educated than boys, for they all
learn sewing without any idea of ever being seamstresses.
Give a girl a needle and thread, and she amuses herself with a hundred
useful things. Give a boy a jackknife, and he first cuts his fingers,
and then cuts the school-desks. Even when we have a box of tools given
us, we are never made to learn how to use them properly. Jig-saws and
the like never seemed to quite satisfy the boyish mind; the work was too
"finicking," and not varied enough; in fact, it was to real work what
fancy embroidery is to plain needle-work, and struck one as being nearly
useless.
Handicrafts differ in one peculiar respect from the labors to which most
of us will have to give our time. We have in everything we do to use our
hands and our brains, but in most cases we shall have to use our hands
to carry out the work of our brains. In handicrafts we have to use our
brains to guide and direct our hands, and our minds, instead of being
continually on the strain, have merely to superintend a mechanical
operation. Our thoughts are employed without the trouble of thinking.
THE BATTLE OF LAKE BORGNE.
HOW THE BRITISH MADE A LANDING UNDER DIFFICULTIES.
BY GEORGE CARY EGGLESTON.
When the British made up their minds, near the end of the year 1814, to
take New Orleans, and thus to get control of the Mississippi River,
there seemed to be very little difficulty in their way.
So far as anybody on either side could see, their only trouble was
likely to be in making a landing. If they could once get their splendid
army on shore anywhere near the city, there was very little to prevent
them from taking the town, and if they had taken it, it is easy to see
that the whole history of the United States would have been changed.
They did make a landing, but they did not take New Orleans, and perhaps
I shall hereafter tell how and why they failed. At present I want to
tell how they landed.
The expedition consisted of a large fleet bearing a large army. At first
the intention was to sail up the Mississippi River, but General Jackson
made that impossible by building strong forts on the stream, and so it
was necessary to try some other plan.
It happens that New Orleans has two entrances from the sea. The river
flows in front of the city, and by that route it is about a hundred
miles from the city to the sea; but just behind the town, only a few
miles away, lies a great bay called Lake Pontchartrain. This bay is
connected by a narrow strait with another bay called Lake Borgne, which
is connected directly with the sea.
Lake Borgne is very shallow, but the British knew little about it. They
only knew that if they could land anywhere on the banks of Lake Borgne
or Lake Pontchartrain they would be within an easy march of New Orleans.
Accordingly, the fleet bearing the British army, instead of entering the
mouth of the Mississippi, and trying to get to New Orleans in front,
sailed in by the back way, and anchored near the entrance of Lake
Borgne.
Here the British had their first sight of the preparations made to
resist them. Six little gun-boats, carrying twenty-three guns in all,
were afloat on the lake under command of Lieutenant Thomas Ap Catesby
Jones. These gun-boats were mere mosquitoes in comparison with the great
British men-of-war, and when they made their appearance in the track of
the invading fleet, the British laughed and wondered at the
foolhardiness of the American commander in sending such vessels there.
Lieutenant Thomas Ap Catesby Jones knew what he was about, however, as
the British soon found out. He sailed up almost within cannon-shot of
the enemy's ships, and they, of course, gave chase to him. Then he
nimbly sailed away, with the fleet after him. Very soon a large
man-of-war ran aground; then another and another struck the bottom, and
the British Admiral began to understand the trick. It was evident that
Lake Borgne was much too shallow for the large ships, and so the
commander called a halt, and transferred the troops to the smaller
vessels of the fleet.
When this was done the chase was begun again by the smaller ships, and
for a time with every prospect of success; but presently even these
ships were hard aground, and the whole British fleet which had been
intended to carry the army across the lake was stuck fast in the mud
near the entrance, and thirty miles from the point at which the landing
was to be made.
The British commander was at his wits' end. It was clear that the ships
could not cross the lake, and the only thing to be done was to transport
the army across little by little in the ships' boats, and make a landing
in that way. But to do that while Lieutenant Jones and his gun-boats
were afloat was manifestly impossible. If it had been attempted, the
little gun-boats, which could sail anywhere on the lake, would have
destroyed the British army by boat-loads.
There was nothing to be done until the saucy little fleet was out of the
way, and to put it out of the way was not easy.
Lieutenant Jones was an officer very much given to hard fighting, and in
this case the British saw that they must fight him at a disadvantage. As
they could not get to him in their ships, they must make an attack in
open boats, which, of course, was a very dangerous thing to do, as the
American gun-boats were armed with cannon.
The British commander wanted his bravest men for such work, and so he
called for volunteers to man the boats. A thousand gallant fellows
offered themselves, and were placed in fifty boats, under command of
Captain Lockyer. Each boat was armed with a carronade--a kind of small
cannon--but the men well knew that the real fighting was not to be done
with carronades. The only hope of success lay in a sudden, determined
attack. The only way to capture the American gun-boats was to row up to
them in the face of their fire, climb over their sides, and take them by
force in a hand-to-hand fight.
When the flotilla set sail, on the 14th of December, Lieutenant Jones
knew what their mode of attack would be quite as well as Captain Lockyer
did. If he let them attack him in the open lake he knew very well that
the British could overpower him and capture his fleet; but he did not
intend to be attacked in the open lake if he could help it. His plan was
to sail slowly, keeping just out of reach of the row-boats, and
gradually draw them to the mouth of the strait which leads into Lake
Pontchartrain. At that point there was a well-armed fort, and if he
could anchor his gun-boats across the narrow channel, he believed he
could destroy the British flotilla with the aid of the fort, and thus
beat off the expedition from New Orleans.
Unluckily while the fleet was yet far from the mouth of the strait the
wind failed entirely, and the gun-boats were helpless. They could not
sail without wind, and they must receive the attack right where they
were.
At daylight on the morning of December 15, the British flotilla was
about nine miles away, but was rapidly drawing nearer, the boats being
propelled by oars. Lieutenant Jones called the commanders of his
gun-boats together, gave them instructions, and informed them of his
purpose to make as obstinate a fight as possible. His case was hopeless;
his fleet would be captured, but by fighting obstinately he could at
least gain time for General Jackson at New Orleans, and time was greatly
needed there.
Meanwhile the British boats, carrying a thousand men, all hardened to
desperate fighting, approached and anchored just out of gunshot. Captain
Lockyer wished his men to go into action in the best condition, and
therefore he came to anchor to rest the oarsmen, and to give the men
time for breakfast.
At half past ten o'clock the British weighed anchor, and, forming in
line, began the advance. As soon as they came within range the American
gun-boats opened fire, but with little effect at first. Of course the
British could not reply at such a distance, but being under fire, their
chief need was to go forward as fast and come to close quarters as
quickly as possible. The sailors bent to their oars, and the boats flew
over the water. Soon the men at the bows began to fire the carronades in
reply to the American cannon. Then, as the boats drew nearer, small-arms
came into use, and the battle grew fiercer with every moment. The
British boats were with difficulty kept in line, and their advance grew
slower. Oarsmen were killed, and time was lost in putting others into
their places. Still the line was preserved, and the battle went on, the
attacking boats still slowly and steadily advancing.
[Illustration: BOARDING THE GUN-BOATS.]
Two of the American gun-boats had drifted out of place, and were
considerably in advance of the rest. Seeing this, Captain Lockyer
ordered the men commanding the boats to surround them, and a few minutes
later the British were climbing over the sides of these vessels.
Their attack was stoutly resisted. The American sailors above them fired
volleys into their faces, and beat them back with handspikes. Scores of
the British fell back into the water, dead or wounded, while their
comrades pressed forward to fill their places. There were so many of
them that in spite of all the Americans could do to beat them off they
swarmed over the gunwales and gained the decks. Their work was not yet
done, however. The Americans fiercely contested every inch of their
advance, and the two parties hewed each other down with cutlasses, the
Americans being slowly beaten back by superior numbers, but still
obstinately fighting until they could fight no more.
One by one all the gun-boats were taken in this way, Lieutenant Jones's
vessel holding out longest, and the Lieutenant himself fighting till he
was stricken down with a severe wound.
Having thus cleared Lake Borgne, the British were free to begin the work
of landing. It was a terrible undertaking, however--scarcely less so
than the fight itself. The whole army had to be carried thirty miles in
open boats and landed in a swamp. The men were drenched with rain, and a
frost coming on, their clothes were frozen on their bodies. There was no
fuel to be had on the island where they made their first landing, and to
their sufferings from cold was added severe suffering from hunger before
supplies of food could be brought to them. Some of the sailors who were
engaged in rowing the boats were kept at work for four days and nights
without relief.
The landing was secured, however, and the British cared little for the
sufferings it had cost them. They believed then that they had little
more to do except to march twelve miles and take possession of the city,
with its one hundred and fifty thousand bales of cotton and its ten
thousand hogsheads of sugar. How it came about that they were
disappointed I shall hope to tell you next time.
[Illustration: "I WANT SOMEBODY TO PLAY WITH."]
WHO WON THE BICYCLE?
BY MATTHEW WHITE, JUN.
"Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! Bimb! bang! boom!" and as they shouted out the
school cheer, a group of Vilney boys flung up their caps and danced
about to catch them again in a fashion that showed they felt much too
jolly to keep them decorously on their heads.
It was the first Friday after the fall opening of the High School, and
the cause of the cheering was the fact that the next day was the date of
the Boys' Olympic Games at the Fair Grounds. The entertainment was quite
a novel one, as none but school-boys were allowed to take part, and the
prizes offered were pocket-knives, archery sets, tennis outfits, and
last, but by no means least, an elegant full-nickel bicycle of the
finest make. Cups, silver services, gold medals, and embroidered banners
were all cast into the shade by the latter magnificent inducement, to be
presented to the winner of the three-mile bicycle race.
The games had been organized and the prizes provided by a wealthy young
bachelor who had lately come to reside in the town, and who was
exceedingly fond of boys. Nearly every member of the Vilney High School
was entered for one or more of the contests, and Olympic Games had been
the absorbing topic of conversation for weeks.
One especially interested was Alec Barsbey. He was the son of a farmer
who seemed never to make more than enough to support his family, minus
luxuries, which perhaps may be accounted for by the fact that he ought
not to have been a farmer at all, but a lawyer or minister, for he was
so extremely fond of books. Alec inherited his father's taste for
learning--a taste which Mr. Barsbey resolved should be cultivated by the
best schooling, to be followed by a college course. He was now in his
fifteenth year, nearly ready to enter upon the latter, but the severe
study had begun to tell upon his health, when he luckily conceived a
strong and sudden fondness for bicycling (for as a rule he did not care
for sports or games), and on his friend Murray Hart's machine took now
and then an invigorating "spin."
Murray lived just across the road from the Barsbeys, and when the rage
for "wheels" broke out in town, he was among the first to own one.
However, being also the happy possessor of a pony, he divided his time
out-of-doors between the two, and as he was a fast friend of Alec's, he
was only too happy when he could prevail upon the latter to accept the
loan of his machine.
But if the Barsbeys were poor in purse, they were wealthy in a spirit of
independence, and it was only after repeated urgings on the part of
Murray that Alec could be induced to ride another's property. Yet even
with the limited amount of practice he allowed himself, he speedily
became an expert "'cyclist," although this fact was not an unmixed
pleasure to him, as it only increased his desire to have a machine of
his own, which in the present state of the Barsbey finances was quite
out of the question.
Now, however, the Olympic Games presented a possible means of obtaining
a splendid one, and Alec made haste to hire at the "bi" head-quarters a
trusty wheel on which to practice and ride the race.
But while we have been making this lengthy explanation, Friday has
passed, and Saturday morning dawned cool and clear.
What a babble of boys' tongues there was in the dressing-room under the
grand stand, and what a crush of boys, girls, fathers, mothers, and
cousins on top of it!
Mr. Lancewood, the young bachelor, who was as jolly as he was generous,
bustled about from performers to public, boys to girls, grown people to
children, until everybody began to believe there must be two of him.
Suddenly he stopped, looked at his watch, and then waved his
handkerchief. Instantly a clear-toned trumpet proclaimed the opening of
the games, and a brass band rattled off a lively air, at the close of
which ten boys in flannel shirts and polo caps walked out from the
dressing-rooms and toed the mark for the hundred-yard dash. Mr.
Lancewood took his station behind them, pistol in hand, while at the
other end of the course two young men held a broad reel ribbon between
them to indicate the goal.
"One, two, three! Are you ready? [_Bang._] Go!" and off shot the ten as
if from the pistol itself.