defiantly. "One understands quite well that there would be no pleasure
in having a suit like that unless there were opportunities to show it;
and whether it be in the morning or evening, in the school-room or the
opera boxes, is all the same. I don't see why one should not wear as
nice things in Madame Blanc's company as in Madame Gerster's; and some
people would think a school-room just as worthy of a fine dress as an
opera-house."
This argument was received with a murmur of approval. Girls rarely look
beneath the surface, and it sounded well; but upon the whole, Katie felt
that she had had a great triumph. For a month afterward she wore her
brown cloth school suit with the air of one who has vindicated her
taste, and who was quite content with its serviceable fitness.
The velvets began to look common, and a little shabby; imitations of a
cheaper kind were plentiful on the streets. She almost wondered how she
ever could have thought them so desirable. It was just when she had
reached this position, when velvet suits had sunk below the tide of
wishing for in her mind, that they were again forced on her attention.
One morning Clara May came to school in a state of great excitement. She
threw aside her Derby and Ulster, and hastened to the group chatting by
the open fire.
"Girls," she said, in a tone which implied something far beyond the
words--"girls, I was at the charity fair last night."
"Oh!" from half a dozen voices at once.
"And I saw Agnes Hilton there. She had a stand--Japanese things."
"Did you buy?"
"I priced some scrolls; they were horrid, and very dear. What do you
think she wore?"
"Could not guess; she has such lots of things," said an old pupil who
remembered Agnes.
"A--violet--velvet--suit!"
"Oh!"
"Lined with pale violet satin!"
"Oh!"
"And little bunches of violets worked on the cuffs, collar, and left
breast!"
"Never!"
"Yes, it is, I positively declare."
"Katie Dawson's?" inquired some one, in a hesitating voice.
"Or else--Katie Dawson wore Agnes Hilton's suit that day."
"They might have suits alike," said Julia Smith; "they are great
friends."
"They _might_, but I don't believe they have."
Just then Katie entered the room, and there was a moment's silence. Then
Clara said:
"Good-morning, Miss Dawson. Were you at the fair last night?"
"Yes. What a horrid crush it was!"
"Do you think so? What did you wear?"
"Navy blue silk."
"Why did you not wear your violet velvet?"
"In that crush? What an idea!"
"Agnes Hilton had hers on. I saw her; I priced some goods at her stand.
I noticed particularly the flowers on her cuffs. It was a suit _exactly_
like the one you wore that morning you came dressed for the matinée.
Your suit was made precisely the same as hers. Perhaps it was"--and then
she stopped, and with a very irritating smile turned to her books.
The attack had been so sudden that for once Katie was tongue-tied. That
group of inquisitive girls was too much for her. She turned haughtily on
her heel, and disdained to answer, but she felt that her sceptre had
departed. There were whisperings in her presence, and confidences in
which she had no share. Girls looked meaningly at her dress, and a week
afterward, when the day for translations came round, Clara May read
aloud the fable of the jay in peacock's feathers, which she had freely
rendered into French from the English version.
To Madame it had no particular meaning; to the whole school-room it was
startlingly intelligent. Katie tingled with shame and burned with anger.
She had pretended not to notice much that had wounded her deeply. Should
she continue a course which left her a text for sermons of this kind, or
should she boldly take her punishment in her own hand? She decided that
the latter would be the bravest and wisest thing to do, and as soon as
Clara sat down she rose and asked, "Will Madame allow me to answer Miss
May's fable in English?"
"This is the French class, Miss Dawson."
"But, Madame, I desire all present to understand me clearly."
"You have a motive? Ah! then it is well you speak as you wish."
"Madame, _I_ am intended to point the moral of the jay and the peacock's
feathers. If Madame permits me, I will explain."
"I desire not to interrupt."
Then Katie spoke frankly of her desire for a velvet suit, and repeated
her mother's objections to it--to which objections Madame said,
emphatically, "Good, they were good."
"Then I went to Agnes Hilton's, and she proposed I should wear her
dress, and I agreed to it very gladly. Madame perhaps remembers the
dress?"
Madame nodded her head decidedly.
"And then, Madame, Miss May saw Miss Hilton at the fair in the violet
velvet, and Miss May is very shrewd, and supposed what is really the
case. I might, of course, have said that Agnes and I had dresses alike,
and so have left the matter in doubt. But I have regretted my folly very
often since, and I prefer to tell the truth. Whatever punishment Madame
thinks I deserve, I am ready to accept."
"This is a great pleasure to me," said Madame. "What is a velvet
suit?--a few dollars, a thing that quite common people may have. But the
truth!--but the brave heart to confess a fault! That is beyond all
price. Miss Dawson has taken her punishment this morning; now I give to
her, with great pride, my hand."
There had never been such a sensation in the school before. Katie lifted
her eyes, full of tears, to Madame, and in that moment the girl gained a
point in character which vanity and deception never again will conquer.
Then the translations went on as usual, but when the books were closed,
Madame said: "We have learned a lesson this morning, young ladies, which
is the same in all the languages--the power of simple truth to conquer
even the vanity and the ill-will. If you forget the French, then you
will try always to remember this."
The girl whom I have called Clara May told me the story of the violet
velvet suit, and she added: "I like no one so well as I do Katie Dawson
now. Madame Dubaney will make our school dresses alike next winter, and
they will _not_ be velvet."
[Illustration: RUSSIAN CHILDREN AT PLAY.]
A PLAY-GROUND IN THE CZAR'S PARK.
BY DAVID KER.
No Russian boy with a half-holiday before him could wish for a
pleasanter place to spend it than the great park which lies around the
Czar's country palace of Tsarskoë-Selo (Czar's Village), sixteen miles
southeast of St. Petersburg. The poor Czar himself very seldom goes
there now, fearing to be shot or blown up: but plenty of his subjects do
all through the summer, and many a hard-worked clerk or tired
store-keeper, lying on the soft grass, with his children frolicking
around him, or eating moroshki (Finland raspberries) and cream in one of
the little trellis-work summer-houses near the lake, doubtless
congratulates himself that he is not important enough to be
assassinated, and can take a day's pleasure without fear of pistols,
daggers, or dynamite bombs.
If you strike straight out through the park from the eastern corner of
the palace, and head toward Pavlovsk (which lies two miles distant), you
will soon hear a chorus of little voices, as if a party of children were
enjoying themselves somewhere near. Ask any one what this means, and
the answer will be, "Matchta" (the mast), and in another moment you see
the top of a tall mast above the trees, and come out upon a small open
space with a shed along one side of it, and the mast itself in the
middle.
All around the foot of it, for safety's sake, is spread a strong net,
upon which a crowd of girls and boys are dancing, rolling about, and
jumping backward and forward, while other boys of a more adventurous
turn are chasing each other up and down the "stays" and rope-ladders,
laughing and hallooing at the full pitch of their voices.
See what rosy cheeks this little lassie in the pink sash has got. She
looked pale enough two months ago, but fresh air and out-door games have
done wonders for her already. She and her sister Alexia (Alice) have
taken her big doll between them, and joining hands with their cousin
Nadejda (Hope) are dancing round and round in time to a funny little
Russian song.
But who is that tall, bright-eyed, curly-haired boy who is skipping up
and down the rigging as nimbly as a cat, watched admiringly by the old
Russian sailor who has charge of the play-ground? Young as he is,
Michael Suvôrin has already made up his mind to go to sea, and never
loses a chance of "practicing for a sailor." He is rather a wild boy,
and just a little too fond of playing tricks upon his aunt and cousins,
who are watching him rather nervously from below; but with all his
wildness, he staid in only last week all through a half-holiday to read
to his little sister when she was ill.
Suddenly he flings his straw hat to the ground, and starts right for the
mast-head hand over hand in true man-of-war fashion. Up he goes--up, up,
up--reaches the top, and giving a triumphant hurrah, turns to come down
again.
All at once he is seen to lurch forward; a cry is heard; and the next
moment he is hanging head downward in the empty air, caught by one foot
in the strands of the rope-ladder.
Instantly all is confusion. Ladies scream, children cry, and the old
sailor himself darts forward to mount to the rescue, when the
mischievous boy clews himself up again with a loud laugh, and slides
down unhurt, the whole thing having been only a trick.
But when he sees his aunt's white scared face, and his little cousins
crying bitterly, Michael's warm heart smites him.
"I'm very sorry, aunt; I only meant it for fun, and I never thought I'd
frighten you so. Scold me as much as you like; it'll just serve me
right."
"Nay, don't be too hard on him, barina" (madam), puts in the old sailor.
"Boys will have their fun; but he's got the heart of a man in him, and a
man that you'll be proud of yet."
And I should not wonder if old Ivan's prophecy some day came out true.
THE KITTEN AND FALLING LEAVES.
BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.
That way look, my infant, lo!
What a pretty baby-show!
See the Kitten on the wall,
Sporting with the leaves that fall--
Withered leaves, one, two, and three--
From the lofty elder-tree!
Through the calm and frosty air
Of this morning bright and fair,
Eddying round and round, they sink
Softly, slowly; one might think,
From the motions that are made,
Every little leaf conveyed
Sylph or fairy hither tending,
To this lower world descending,
Each invisible and mute
In his wavering parachute.
--But the Kitten, how she starts,
Crouches, stretches, paws, and darts!
First at one, and then its fellow
Just as light and just as yellow;
There are many now--now one--
Now they stop, and there are none.
What intenseness of desire
In her upward eye of fire!
What a tiger-leap! Half way
Now she meets the coming prey,
Lets it go as fast, and then
Has it in her power again;
Now she works with three or four,
Like an Indian conjurer;
Quick as he in feats of art,
Far beyond in joy of heart,
Were her antics played in the eye
Of a thousand standers-by,
Clapping hands with shout and stare,
What would little Tabby care
For the plaudits of the crowd?
Overhappy to be proud,
Overwealthy in the treasure
Of her own exceeding pleasure!
[Illustration]
[Illustration: OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.]
We feel sure that our readers will be pleased by the announcement on the
next page of a serial story by their friend Mr. W. O. Stoddard. The
story is a long one, and will contain a chapter of intensely interesting
reading for each week of the coming winter.
* * * * *
Sometimes when we open the Post-office Box, and read the letters you
send us, we try to imagine how you look, and wonder whether we would
know you if we happened to meet you going to school, or riding your
gentle ponies over the hills, or perhaps busy feeding your pets, and
helping along at home. We fancy we would recognize our own Young People
by their bright faces and straightforward speech and polite manners.
Though we can not print all the letters, we like to read them, and we
think just as much of the letters we can not publish as of those which
appear in these columns. Remember this, Hannah and Joe, Theodore and
Bessie, and write to us again.
Please use black ink, boys and girls, and, to spare our eyes, do not use
red ink nor a lead-pencil.
* * * * *
FORT RENO, INDIAN TERRITORY.
Would you like to hear about an Indian dance, or "medicine," which
I saw a little while ago? It was in a very large tent composed of
several "tepees," or tents of the kind the Indians live in. The
dancers were almost naked, painted black or yellow with white
marks, and most of them had willow wreaths on their heads, wrists,
and ankles. They jumped up and down, blowing on whistles made of
the bone of an eagle's wing. In one corner of the tent was a
"tom-tom," or big drum, which was beaten by five or six Indians,
who sang at the same time, or at least did what they called
singing, though it sounded more like howling in my ears. After much
drumming and singing, the "medicine-man" and two or three others
came forward and stood near the middle pole. One took down two
ropes, while another sat down. The "medicine-man" then picked up a
knife and some sticks and went up to the side of the man who was
sitting down, and pinching up some of the skin on either side of
his breast, ran the knife through it, and then taking one of the
sticks, he put it through the hole. Then he and another man slipped
the ropes over the sticks and went away. The tortured Indian got up
and jumped first to one side and then to the other, trying to break
loose. The skin stood out about four and a half inches, but would
not break: at last it gave way, and the man went head first into
the fire which was behind him. After this several others were tied
up in the same way. The dance continued several days.
I like "The Cruise of the 'Ghost,'" "The Brave Swiss Boy," and
"Across the Ocean," but "Toby Tyler" is my favorite. I have taken
YOUNG PEOPLE from the first number, and could hardly do without it.
I am just eleven years old.
WILLIAM WIRT L.
* * * * *
COVINGTON, KENTUCKY.
Most of the young folks who write to you tell of their pets. To
avoid sameness, I will not tell of mine, but briefly mention the
many curious things I lately saw at Spang's Natural History Rooms.
There were four or five kinds of sharks, the most
formidable-looking being the hammer-head. It was indeed a monster;
its head was three feet across, and its great goggle eyes stood out
on each side. The man-eater was a hideous-looking thing, and would
not be a very pleasant bathing companion. It has double rows of
teeth, and is fully capable of making mince-meat of a person in a
very short time. The manatee, or sea-cow, is an ugly-looking
customer, in shape resembling the whale. This specimen weighs
nearly two thousand pounds. The saw-fish is a queer-looking fellow,
who has the advantage of all other workmen, as he carries his
tool-chest with him all the time without inconvenience. This chest
contains one formidable saw, which grows out from his snout. We saw
two or three very large fish of this class, the saws being fully a
yard long, with teeth on both sides. The king of fishes, the whale,
would not care to combat with a saw-fish. Of all the odd-looking
reptiles we saw it would be too tedious to make mention, so I will
only allude to the little alligators, all dead and stuffed, which
the ingenious Mr. Spang has arranged in the most laughable
attitudes. He must have at least five hundred, some of them not
more than a couple of weeks old. I hope that those of your readers
who are fond of studying natural history may have an opportunity to
visit this or some other equally good collection.
EDITH C.
* * * * *
CONCORD, CALIFORNIA.
My home is away out in the country, in Contra Costa County. I have
two sisters and three brothers. My sisters are Emma and Tina, and
my brothers are Charlie and Louis; the baby's name we have not yet
decided upon. Emma, Tina, and I go to a little school about two
miles from home. I have some chickens, turkeys, ducks, and pigeons,
four dogs, and more than a dozen cats. I must tell you what my
brother Louis did to a pet pigeon of mine. He saw it walking around
the yard, and he thought he would make it a prisoner by putting it
in the tin oven of the stove. We built a fire in the stove next
day, and soon we heard a noise in the oven. We took the captive
out, and tried to save it, but it died in the night. My papa gave
me a nice little pony, which I ride. His name is George. I am
twelve years old, and as this is my first letter, I would like very
much to see it in print. Good-by.
BERTA E. L.
Of course your brother did not mean to leave the poor bird in prison,
and he must have felt very sad at its unhappy fate.
* * * * *
ELYRIA, OHIO.
I have been wanting to write you a letter for a long time, for I
see many letters in the Post-office Box from little girls who are
about the same age as myself.
I want to tell you about a large black and yellow spider that had
its home in the corner of a house of ours. Of course it was
out-of-doors, for my mamma will not have spider webs in the house
where we live. In the middle of her web Mrs. Spider made a kind of
curtain, behind which she retired to eat her food. One morning I
went to look at it, and there hung a brown bag about the size of a
hickory-nut. The bag looked as if it had been drawn together at the
top and tied with a string. It had all been made in one night.
There was soon another, and then the spider was gone. My papa took
one of the bags and opened it. The outside was thick and tough like
leather, but soft and smooth as satin inside. In it there was a
little round bowl with a lid; we lifted the lid, and found the bowl
full of tiny yellow eggs. All around this bowl was something that
looked like fine brown cotton. I wonder if it was put there to keep
the eggs warm, or as food for the baby spiders. I am going to let
the other bag hang as long as it will, and watch it.
I have taken HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE almost a year; it was a birthday
present.
ADA L. B.
* * * * *
BETHALTO, ILLINOIS.
I want to tell you about my dear little sparrow, which I found in a
mill, all covered with flour. I took him home, and fed him for a
week. When I thought he was old enough, I let him fly, but the
cunning little fellow did not want to go. He chirruped all day in
the trees around the house, and at night, when I called him, he
flew right into my open hand. We continued to feed him, and now
think we will have to keep him always. He flies out every day, but
is sure to be close to his cage at night, and there he is satisfied
till morning.
I also have a canary, which always whistles when he sees my papa,
and keeps on calling till papa answers him.
FREDDIE M.
* * * * *
HAZELWOOD, KENTUCKY.
I sold my last year's turkeys, and invested a part of the proceeds
in HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE. It has proved the best investment I ever
made. Papa, mamma, and my brothers and sisters older and younger
than myself all enjoy each week's issue. I now have another flock
of young turkeys, and when they are disposed of, I will certainly
renew my subscription. I raised over two hundred chickens this
year. I now have five brown Leghorn chickens, beauties, from which
I hope to raise a flock next year.
MATTIE L. O.
When you write again, tell us something about your turkeys, whether they
are fond of wandering from home, and which you like best to care for,
turkeys or chickens.
* * * * *
QUINCY, ILLINOIS.
My little son Alfred is, through his affliction, not able to write
himself, so he requests me to say to you what he would like to say
himself. When he wrote you the letter you were kind enough to put
in your valuable paper for him, we thought it probable some few
sympathizing children would send him something to read, and so help
to pass away the to him weary time. He little thought of the almost
universal interest it would awake among your readers. He has
received, I suppose, one hundred and fifty letters, and books,
magazines, and newspapers enough to last him some time. Letters
have come to him from almost every State in the Union, and one from
a very kind lady in Helena, Montana. I have answered several by
mail, but a great many kind friends have sent papers without name,
and we wish in his place to thank all who have so kindly answered
his letter, and we hope some day to do to others as they have done
to our little boy.
S. JUDD, for ALFRED.
* * * * *
WINDHAM, NEW YORK.
My friend from New York city and I thought we would write and tell
you about our camping out upon a hill behind our house. We built a
little shanty just large enough to sit up and lie down in, besides
a little place to put our apples and drinking water in. We slept
with soft hats on, pulled down over our ears to keep from catching
cold, lying on and under blankets. It was quite a cold night
outside, but with the aid of a lantern we read YOUNG PEOPLE, and
kept warm inside by hugging up close together. We were very careful
about the light being seen by the boys, for fear they would come up
and trouble us as they did last year. We covered the cracks around
the sides with old carpets, and the roof with oil-cloth, to keep
from getting wet if it should happen to rain. We slept well, and in
the morning I heard some one call, "Time to get up; half past
five," so we got up and opened our house; and next summer, if we
live, we will camp out again. We hope to have YOUNG PEOPLE till we
grow up, and we always welcome it.
RIP VAN WINKLE.
E. O. P.
* * * * *
ELIZABETH, NEW JERSEY.
I think I must tell you about my gray cat. My papa brought him home
from New York one day, and he was at first very wild, but plenty to
eat and kind treatment soon tamed him. His color is gray, and he
has black stripes on his head, paws, back, and sides. He is very
greedy; we may feed him all day, and then he will come and rub up
against us, as if begging for more. He is a very affectionate cat,
for when I go out into the yard, he comes up out of the
honeysuckles and purrs with pleasure. I have had him about three
months.
ROSIE E. W.
You might call your gray pussy Oliver Twist, after a certain poor boy
who was abused quite as much as poor Tim, and who was always asking for
"more," though he had far less to eat than your cat, and so had an
excuse for being always hungry. Do you know who wrote the story of
_Oliver Twist_?
* * * * *
My brother and I are making a "zoo," and have quite a collection. I
would like to increase my stock with a live turtle or terrapin, and
I will exchange twelve picture cards for a small one.
We are now reading _Life and her Children_, and find it adds much
to the pleasure of our work in collecting.
My brother is eleven and I am nine years old.
F. C. ELY, 238 S. Third St., Philadelphia, Penn.
* * * * *
The following exchanges are offered by correspondents:
Stamps, foreign and domestic, for exchange.
F. H. WATERS, Cambridge, Dorset Co., Md.
* * * * *
Rare South American and East Indian stamps, for others equally
rare.
B. F. MCLAUGHLIN,
122 Front St., New York City.
* * * * *
A stone from Illinois, for three postmarks from any other State.
RALPH B. LARKIN,
New Windsor, Mercer Co., Ill.
* * * * *
A hand-power scroll-saw, one iron stone, one flint Indian
arrow-head, two books, entitled _The Six Little Rebels_ and _The
American Family Robinson_, for a bicycle, stamps, or coins.
H. B. MCGRAW,
206 Prospect St., Cleveland, Ohio.
* * * * *
A 20-inch miniature yacht, sloop-rigged, and warranted to sail, a
three-draw spy-glass, and fifty stamps, for a foot-power scroll-saw
and appliances in good condition.
WILLIAM E. ELDRIDGE,
323 York St., Jersey City, N. J.
* * * * *
U. S. stamps, postmarks, New York papers and editors' names, for
curiosities, stamps, etc., or for a printing-press and type.
THOMAS J. STANTON,
39 Madison St., New York City.
* * * * *
Fifty foreign and official stamps, several rare English and other
foreign coins, for type in good condition.
WILL J. DANTE,
1212 Sixth St., N. W., Washington, D. C.
* * * * *
Internal revenue stamps, ores, postmarks, insects, and arrow-heads,
for stamps from Asia, Africa, or South America.
ELMER POST,
Box 1503, Towanda, Penn.
* * * * *
Pressed flowers and ferns from Pennsylvania, lichens, etc., for
ocean curiosities, minerals, or old coins. Please label specimens.
Box 26, New Bloomfield, Perry Co., Penn.
* * * * *
A dix-centimes French coin, for a stamp from Paraguay and one from
Cashmere; an English half-penny, for a stamp from Honduras and one
from Orange States.
ALFRED C. ROWLAND,
Montclair, Essex Co., N. J.
* * * * *
Hot Springs specimens, for a popular poem entitled "We've drank
from the same Canteen," sent in order for a scrap-book.
MAIE G. HAMBLEN, Hot Springs, Ark.
* * * * *
Pretty pebbles from Lake Erie, for foreign stamps or curiosities.
ALTHEA LEHMAN,
Bloomville, Seneca Co., Ohio.
* * * * *
Postmarks, for curiosities.
HARRY T. LONG, Malden, Mass.
* * * * *