jackknife; but he should not have stood right in front of the ram to do
it, for the very second the prize brute felt himself free, Abe felt
something bump against him just above his waist. It was not very
vigorous butting, and was only done from force of habit, but Abe went
down.
"Run, boys, run! He'll go for you next."
"Deserves to have been left in the well," exclaimed Jim Chandler, "the
ungrateful beast!"
There was no need of any running, however, for the ram had no heart,
perhaps no very serviceable legs, to follow them. Abe Larrabee was the
only fellow who really hurried much.
It was just as they all got to the other side of the old bridge on the
road to the village that Put Boswell suddenly broke out with:
"Look a-here, boys, wasn't we a-wondering this morning what we'd do with
this here last day of vacation?"
"That was just the trouble," said Charley Farrington, "and we've put it
in a-helping an old sheep out of Chittenden's well."
"Don't care for that," stoutly responded Put. "Didn't I say last night
I'd find something to do? I say it's the best day we've had. We know
just what to do with an old well now. It's been real interesting."
"Yes," drawled Abe Larrabee, "so it has. Interesting to the old ram too.
Worst of it is, we daren't tell anybody."
That was too bad, but they could all go back to school more cheerfully
for it the next day.
THE UNGRATEFUL WOOD-CUTTER.
Once on a time there lived in a village a wood-cutter so poor, that he
had only his hatchet with which to gain bread for his wife and children.
"What am I to do?" said he, one day. "I am worn out with fatigue, my
wife and children have nothing to eat, and I have no longer strength to
hold my hatchet to earn even bitter black bread for my family. Ah! it is
very bad luck for the poor when they are brought into this world."
While he was lamenting in this way, a voice called to him in a
compassionate tone, "What are you complaining of?"
"Am I not likely to complain, when I have no food?" said he.
"Go home," said the voice, "dig up the earth in the corner of your
garden, and you will find under a dead branch a treasure."
When the wood-cutter heard this he threw himself on his knees, and cried
out, "Master, how do you call yourself? who are you with so kind a
heart?"
"My name is Merlin," said the voice.
"Ah, master, God will bless you if you will come to my aid, and save a
poor family from destitution."
"Go quickly," said the voice, "and in a year's time come back here, and
give me an account of what you have done with the money you will find in
the corner of the garden."
"Master, I will come in a year's time, or every day if you command me."
So he went home, dug the earth in the corner pointed out to him, and
there found the promised treasure.
At the end of the year he went, according to agreement, to the forest.
The voice cried,
"So you have come!"
"Yes, master."
"And how have you fared?"
"Well, master; my family have good food and clothing, and we have reason
to thank you every day."
"You are well off, then, now; but tell me is there anything else you
long for?"
"Ah, yes, master, I should like to be made Mayor."
"All right; in forty days you shall be named Mayor."
"Oh, a thousand thanks, my dear protector."
The second year the rich wood-cutter came to the forest in fine new
clothes, and wearing tied round his waist the scarf of Mayor.
"Mr. Merlin," called he, "come and speak to me."
"Here I am," said the voice. "What do you wish?"
"Our Bishop died yesterday, and my son, with your aid, would like to
replace him. A fresh favor, then, I ask of your kindness."
"In forty days it shall be done," said Merlin.
Accordingly, in forty days the son became a Bishop, and yet they were
not contented.
At the end of the third year the wood-cutter sought his protector, and
in a low voice called,
"Merlin, will you do me another favor?"
"What is it?" said the voice.
"My daughter wishes to be the wife of a Director."
"So let it be," replied Merlin. "In forty days the marriage shall take
place."
And so it all came to pass.
Then the wood-cutter spoke in this wise to his wife,
"Why should I go again into the forest to speak to a creature whom I
have never seen? I am wealthy enough now, I have plenty of friends, and
my name is respected."
"Go once more," said she. "You ought to wish him good-day, and thank him
for all his benefits."
So the wood-cutter mounted his horse, and, followed by two servants,
entered the wood, and began to shout, "Merlot! Merlot! I have no more
need of you, for I am sufficiently rich now."
Merlin replied: "It seems that you have forgotten the time when you had
not enough to eat, possessed only your hatchet, and could scarcely earn
sixpence a day. The first service I rendered you, you went on your
knees, and called me 'Master'; after the second, a little less polite,
you said 'Mister'; after the third, only plain 'Merlin'; and now you
have the impudence to address me as 'Merlot.' You think that you have
made your account well, and have no longer need of me. We'll see to
that. You have always been heartless and stupid; continue to be stupid,
and remain poor as you were when I took you up."
The rich man laughed, shrugged his shoulders, and did not believe a word
that had been said to him.
He went back to his home. Soon his son, the Bishop, died. His daughter,
the Director's wife, also had a bad illness, and she died too. To crown
his misfortunes, a war broke out, and the soldiers of each army entered
his cellars, consumed his wine and his granaries of corn, and burned his
maize in the field. His house also they set fire to, so he remained
penniless and uncared for.
LITTLE JACK'S DREAM.
Little Jack Jones considered himself the happiest boy in Jonesborough
when his father gave him a gun. The fact that it was a weapon with which
to shoot peas, and had a spring that did away with the necessity for
powder, did not make it any less dangerous in Jack's eyes, and he felt
very warlike with it in his hands.
He was positive he could kill birds, and even animals for that matter,
provided his aim was true, and the peas could be sent with sufficient
force. That the woods in the rear of his house were alive with all kinds
of animals he had no doubt, even though he had never seen any, and his
father had said rabbits were the largest game to be found there. He felt
certain his father was mistaken, for what were woods made for if not to
shelter every species of the brute creation?
For a long time Jack had been anxious to go out for a day, and shoot
about as many animals as would be necessary to start a large menagerie;
but until this gun was given him he could not satisfy his desires. Now,
however, all was changed, and he began the most warlike preparations.
He found an old powder-horn which would serve to hold his stock of peas,
and make him look like a hunter, and the obliging tinman cut him out one
of the most ferocious-looking tin knives that can well be imagined.
That night his gun, carefully loaded, stood by the head of his bed,
while his knife and powder-horn of peas were tucked snugly away under
the pillow, where he could reach them at a moment's notice.
It was a long time before he fell asleep that night, and as the last
idea in his mind when the sand-man closed his eyes was of his hunting
expedition, when he thought he awakened he was not surprised at finding
himself already in the woods.
His gun was in his hands, his terrible knife in his belt, and his
pea-horn slung over his shoulder in the proper manner. He laughed to
himself at the thought that he was in the woods without remembering
anything about the disagreeable morning task of combing his hair or
going for the milk; but he took good care to peep cautiously behind
every bush or rock lest an elephant should pop out and trample on him
before he had time to kill him.
With his gun ready for instant use, he walked on, but saw nothing, not
even a bird, that was anxious to be killed, until he heard a gruff voice
just behind him shout,
"Here, young fellow, what are you trying to do?"
Jack turned very quickly, for he had not supposed any one was near, and
his surprise was great at seeing an enormous gorilla, armed with a large
club, and wearing two feathers on his head, and an apron of leaves,
coming directly toward him.
"I wasn't tryin' to do nothin'," said Jack, in greatest alarm, and doing
his best to keep his knees from shaking. "I was only walkin' round."
"That's a story," said the old fellow, sternly, as he called up five
chimpanzees, all of whom wore aprons and carried clubs, and ordered them
to lead Jack away to the court-house.
Frightened as Jack was, he thought how strange it was that animals
should have a court-house, and then as he looked at his captors more
closely, he fancied they acted something after the manner of policemen.
How frightened he was then, and how he wished he had never seen a
pea-gun or a tin knife!
The policemen did not speak to him, but marched him along, the gorilla
leading the way in the most dignified manner possible.
The distance was very long and Jack was tired; but he would willingly
have walked during the entire day if by such means he could escape going
to that court, where he felt certain some terrible punishment awaited
him. There was no such good fortune for him, however, for when they
reached what it seemed must be the very centre of the woods, they
entered a cleared space, which marked the end of the journey.
[Illustration: BEFORE JUDGE LION.--DRAWN BY F. BELLEW, JUN.]
Jack knew he stood in the animals' court-room, for there, on a high bank
on which moss had been spread for a carpet, sat a very ferocious-looking
and very old lion, wearing an enormous pair of eyeglasses, while just
behind him his wife looked over his shoulder curiously at the prisoner.
Just below the lion a tiger sat on his haunches as if he was the clerk
of the court; at one side stood a giraffe as crier, and on a swinging
vine overhead perched an old crow, who, as the shade over his eyes
plainly told, was the court reporter.
It was a terrible moment for poor Jack as he stood there before the
savage-looking judge, and he resolved from that instant that there was
not half so much fun in the so-called sport of hunting as some people
seemed to think.
"What's your name?" asked the tiger, with a growl, and Jack's teeth
chattered so that he could hardly answer,
"Jack Jones."
"What is the charge against the prisoner, Captain Gorilla?" asked the
judge, as he stroked his whiskers and adjusted his eyeglasses.
"Carrying dangerous weapons," answered the old fellow, as he pointed to
the pea-shooter, and then he motioned one of the chimpanzees to tell the
story, he standing ready to corroborate what his lieutenant should say
in case Jack attempted to deny his guilt.
The chimpanzee told the judge that he had been out with Captain Gorilla
and his four comrades since six o'clock that morning, looking for some
suspicious-acting animals who had been reported as being in that ward;
they had discovered the prisoner, who was armed as his honor could see;
he was, at the time of his arrest, looking around him in a singularly
cautious manner, and was, to the best of his (the officer's) belief, a
dangerous person to be at liberty.
The old crow looked down at Jack as if he was about to write a
description of him for the next number of the _Forest Herald_, and the
judge wiped his eyeglasses with his tail, as he asked, "Is his gun
loaded?"
Captain Gorilla stepped forward, and was about to examine the weapon,
when the giraffe put his hoofs in his ears, and insisted that if it was
absolutely necessary to go into such slight details, the captain should
go at least a mile from the court, since he was very nervous, and afraid
of a noise.
The judge thought that perhaps it made no difference whether the charge
was actually in the gun or not, since the prisoner had the ammunition in
his possession, and then paused as if to consider what the sentence
should be.
Jack, who was more frightened than ever before, had had no chance to
speak since his trial began, but now he commenced to cry and plead his
cause at the same time.
"Dear, kind, good Mr. Lion, if you'll only let me go home, I'll bend the
knife all up, an' I won't ever shoot a single pea, except at the side of
our barn, where they can't hurt anybody. _Do_ let me go, 'cause I'm
afraid I didn't get the milk for mother before I came here."
"If you neglected to do the errands for your mother, your punishment
must be all the more severe," said the judge, and his wife nodded her
head as if to say she thought that decision exactly correct.
"I'll never come out here again, an' I'll always do everything mother
wants me to," pleaded Jack, but all in vain.
The judge considered the case in silence for some moments; the clerk
licked his chops hungrily, as if he expected to be called upon to eat
the prisoner; the captain of police brandished his club savagely; the
crow made preparations for writing down the prisoner's last words; and
Jack's hair would have stood straight up, because of his fright, if he
had combed the snarls out so it could.
"Tie him up to the tallest tree by the hair, so he may act as scarecrow
to other boys who come out pea-shooting in the morning before they have
done the chores," said the judge, with a roar, and no sooner had he
spoken than the gorilla and the chimpanzees caught Jack up, climbing the
tree with him in their arms without the slightest difficulty.
It hurt terribly to hang there by the hair, but the pain was still
greater when the branch broke, and he fell to the--floor, now thoroughly
awakened, because he had tumbled out of bed.
It was some moments before he could understand that it was all a dream;
but it had frightened him so that he bent the tin knife double and threw
it out of the window before he crawled back to bed.
The next morning his mother was pleasantly surprised by seeing him do
his work without being reminded of it, and that forenoon, when some of
the boys asked him why he was not in the woods shooting lions, he simply
told them that it was because he was obliged to take care of the baby.
[Illustration: A COUNTRY DAISY.]
[Illustration]
THE LAST FROLIC.
Three little children at grandpa's--Archie, Kitty, and May--
After a summer of sunshine have the last frolic to-day.
High in the old farm wagon--never was carriage so grand--
Three little children are ready for a drive to fairy-land.
The ponies are off in the pasture, the black horse stands in the stall,
But make-believe steeds are harnessed and there at the children's call;
They'll race over hill and valley, they'll dash through village and
town,
And surely they'll find the fairies before the sun goes down.
Three little children at grandpa's have tossed the fragrant hay,
Followed the cows to the meadow, and weeded the garden for play,
Hunted for Tops and Speckle in every cranny and nook,
Carried the eggs home gayly, and fished with pins in the brook.
They are going home to-morrow, this frolic will be the last;
So trot away bravely, horses--no danger of going too fast.
Aloft in the old farm wagon, dimpled and freckled and tanned,
Hurrah for the dear little children, driving to fairy-land.
[Illustration: OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.]
HACKENSACK, NEW JERSEY.
I would like to tell the readers of YOUNG PEOPLE how nice it is to
go all through Harper's establishment. Papa took me there the other
day, and got a permit to go through it, and we saw so many
interesting things that I don't know where to begin to tell about
them. We went into the rooms where all the machinery and presses
are. I saw them printing _Harper's Monthly Magazine_ and a whole
lot of things. I think it is very nice to look at the man
spattering different-colored paints on the water to make the
marbling on the edges of books. I liked to watch the women who were
spreading gold-leaf on the covers of books. After this is done they
are placed in a press, and the letters and pictures are stamped on
the cover, and the gold-leaf that is not needed is brushed off. We
visited the room of the Editor of YOUNG PEOPLE, and had a very
pleasant time there. He showed us an Easter-egg which one of the
young people had sent him. A great many people think that the
letters in Our Post-office Box are not genuine, but I know they
are, for the Editor showed me a pile of them which he had just
received. He said he expected to get as many as that twice a day,
and that they came from all parts of the United States, and even
from Canada and Europe. If they printed all the letters which come
from the children, they would have no room for anything else in the
paper. I think HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE is delightful, and I mean to
take it until I am a woman. I am eight years old now.
EMMA S.
Emma's papa assures us that this letter, in spelling, composition, and
writing is entirely Emma's own work, without any assistance. It is a
very well-written letter in every sense for a little girl of eight.
* * * * *
MOLINE, ILLINOIS.
I think that a short account of the Artesian well which is being
bored here will interest the members of the Young People's Natural
History Society. The well is being bored near the Moline Paper-Mill
for the purpose of procuring pure water to be used in the
manufacture of paper. It is not bored with an auger like an
ordinary well, but is drilled with a drill which works up and down
in the well in the same way that a man drills a hole in rock to
blast it, only of course this drill is larger, and is worked by a
steam-engine and a walking-beam like those on steamboats. The drill
is fastened to one end of the walking-beam by long wooden rods. It
grinds the rock quite fine, like sand, and some of it is ground to
a fine powder. They drill several hours or more, according to the
hardness of the rock, and then pull up the drill, and let down a
hollow iron tube with a valve in the bottom, into which the
pulverized rock, which is mixed with water, runs, and where it is
prevented from coming out by the valve. They have at present
drilled to the depth of 700 feet, and expect to find water at 800
feet.
STILLMAN G.
* * * * *
LYONS FALLS, NEW YORK.
I am eleven years old. I picked up potatoes last fall, and earned
the money with which I bought YOUNG PEOPLE. Papa gave me one cent a
bushel. I like to read the letters in the Post-office Box, and also
"Tim and Tip." I took YOUNG PEOPLE to school, and we read "The
Cruise of the 'Ghost'" there. I have a Newfoundland dog, whose name
is Chuck. His color is old gold. We bought him to help us churn,
but our milk now goes to the factory. I get up early in the morning
and help milk. There is a little creek back of our house, and I
skate there in the winter when it is frozen over. I have lots of
fun. I fall down sometimes, but it don't hurt me much.
CLINTON H. J.
* * * * *
CLARKE COUNTY, VIRGINIA.
Since school closed I've had a splendid time in the country,
fishing in the Shenandoah, and doing other charming things. I am
now going home with papa, and shall take my baby brother a great
red apple. I mean to study very hard, and do everything I can to
please papa, for his kindness in having sent me to the country.
W. H. T.
* * * * *
I don't care about letting you all know where I live; but here I
am, shut up in this great Noah's ark of a parlor, alone, just
because the teacher came here last night and told Aunt Quillet that
I had refused to write my composition. So aunt sent me here, where
I could be quiet, and think without being disturbed. What is there
to think about, I wonder? There's only a crack between the shutters
to let in light, and the furniture is done up in linen bags, and
the pieces peek and stare at me as if every chair were a mummy. Why
can't folks buy things that don't need bagging, or else use the
pretty things while they're pretty, and bag them after they've
grown shabby? They make me think of that ship which Ike Walton
dived into, where the men were all sitting round just as they had
been doing when it went down. I hate parlors anyway. I hate things
with Ulsters on.
Auntie opened the door just now, and inquired how I was succeeding.
I told her I was writing to YOUNG PEOPLE. She said that
letter-writing was a very fine variety of composition. I did not
know that before, and have always thought it easy enough to write
letters. If the teacher were of the same opinion, I would not be
marked deficient so often in this study.
Aunt Quillet is spending a month here. Mother has gone to
grandpa's. Aunt is very stylish, and spends most of her time in
making edging. The time she spends in knitting she might employ
better, I think. The other day I asked her about Moses--I was
studying my Sunday-school lesson at the moment. She said. "Oh yes,
Daniel, I'll help you. Slip one, knit two, pass, slip over, thread
forward. I haven't had time--narrow three times--to read much
lately--knit back plain. Things were very--make fagoting, thread
forward, knit three--different then." So I had to depend on myself,
for aunt could not stop her lace-work to pay attention to me.
DAN J.
* * * * *
MUSKOGEE, INDIAN TERRITORY.
I have a little jet-black pony with a frizzly mane. Its name is
Princess Ethelfrida--rather long, perhaps, but romantic and
beautiful. My home is five miles back of Brushy Mountain. I enjoy
reading Our Post-office Box.
ANNIE K.
* * * * *
MONTICELLO, NEW YORK.
The other day a lady came in to see me, and our talk happened to be
about apples. She had been in her garden, and picked up a few
apples to take in to her children. One which she gave to her little
girl had a large worm-hole in it. The little girl bit quite near
the hole, and out fell the worm; but there still remained in the
cavity something which appeared to be a thread. On examination it
proved to be eight inches long, and when put under the magnifying
glass it was found to have several legs and feet, little black
eyes, and a tongue that hung out of its mouth. The lady dropped it
into a tumbler of water, and it rolled itself up like a little ball
of thread, then unrolled again, and stuck its head out of the
water. It still lives in the tumbler. People should be very careful
about eating apples in the dark.
I have been spending my vacation here, and have had many delightful
adventures. I have a few stones, some pressed flowers, and
curiosities, to exchange for ores. My city address is 771 Park
Avenue, New York city.
FLORENCE H. BRADY.
* * * * *
GREENVILLE, NEW JERSEY.
I have seen so many letters in the Post-office Box about pets that
were named Toby Tyler that I thought I would write you about mine.
We had two beautiful kittens. I named mine Toby, because he was
always hungry. My brother named his Ella, he thought it was so
pretty and cunning. They both died last Sunday. Mamma thinks they
must have eaten something poisonous. They used to catch and eat
bugs when they ran in the grass. Toby and Ella were loved more than
any other pets we ever had. We had a kitten named Mr. Stubbs. I
gave him to a little girl, and he is living yet. I like _all_ of
YOUNG PEOPLE the _best_, and can make no choice.
DOT H.
* * * * *
FREEPORT, ILLINOIS.
I am a little boy seven years old. I have had a dear little sister,
who has always read me the paper every week, and we were so happy,
and enjoyed it so much together, but in June Jesus took her to
heaven, and I am very lonely without her, for we loved each other
very dearly. She was thirteen years old. Papa and mamma read to me
now, but I am going to work hard when school commences, so that I
may soon read to myself.
I dreamed last night that sister Ida came back. I went out to the
gate to meet her, and talked with her, and the talk was pleasant. I
asked her if she was not hungry, and wanted her to come into the
house and get something to eat, but she said she was never hungry
now; and then she was gone again away from me, and I woke up.
I have five pets this summer--a mocking-bird, a canary, a bunting
(or Mexican canary), a parrot, and a white rabbit. The parrot talks
a great deal--calls "Papa," "Albert," "Kitty," says "Good-by,"
whistles, and does a good many other things. The rabbit gets into
her cage, and helps eat up her dinner, and Polly does not care a
bit, for they are very good friends.
Mamma has done the writing for me, for it is such hard work for me,
and takes so long. I like the new story of "Tim and Tip" very much.
ALBERT W. B.
* * * * *
HOLLY SPRINGS, MISSISSIPPI.