you a better way to settle it than that. You know our old Bavarian
fashion; when two young fellows want to try each other's strength, they
join hands and see which can tug the other across the line. Clear a
space there, and let us see which is the best man."
The tables and benches were pushed back, a line chalked on the floor,
and Hermann and the stranger, seizing each other's hands in a strong
grasp, stood foot to foot, awaiting the signal.
Now for the first time it broke upon the foresters that their champion
might not have such an easy victory after all, for the supple vigor of
the stranger's movements, and the firmness with which he planted his
feet, showed that Hermann had his work cut out for him. Hermann himself,
feeling the iron grasp of the unknown's long bony fingers, began to
think so too; but could any man, much less a tailor, be a match for
_him_? Absurd! And he began with a pull that ought to have ended the
whole business at once; but somehow it didn't.
Then, stimulated by his comrades' shouts, Hermann put forth all his
strength, tugging as if he were uprooting a tree, till the sweat hung in
big drops on his forehead, and the veins of his hands stood out like
cords. But though the unknown was sorely shaken, across the line he
would not come; and at length Hermann paused, exhausted.
Then the watching eyes around saw the stranger's arms stiffen suddenly,
and Hermann's huge frame bend slowly forward. Frantically he struggled,
but his strength was spent, and forward he slid, inch by inch. Just on
the chalk line he made a final effort, and stood firm for an instant;
but now the stranger exerted all his force in turn, and pulled him over
the line with such a tremendous tug that they both rolled on the floor
together.
"Comrade!" shouted the hunters, crowding round the conqueror, "you've
done what none of _us_ could ever do. Tell us your name, that we may
remember it."
"My parents named me Ferdinand," answered the stranger, with a queer
little mocking smile, "but of late folks have taken to calling me Strong
Schalk!"
"Strong Schalk!" echoed Hermann, starting from the seat upon which he
had sunk dejectedly. "Shake hands, lad; it would have broken my heart to
be beaten by a tailor, but I don't mind a bit being beaten by _you_.
Come, let us be friends!"
And from that day forth the two men were the best friends imaginable.
HOW TO MAKE A TOY CANOE.
BY C. W. FISHER.
The building of a birch-bark canoe of sufficient size and well enough
made for actual use would rather tax the mechanical skill of most boys;
but with no better tool than a jackknife, and with a little ingenuity, a
small model may be easily made.
There are few localities where the material--the white birch--can not be
obtained. The dimensions given here are those of one which hangs above
us as we write, and are only given to make the explanations clearer. Of
course it can be built of any size, and the young builder may make such
other changes in its construction as taste or necessity may suggest.
A tree not more than eight inches through furnishes the best quality of
bark, flexible enough to be readily handled, and tough enough to be
durable. Woodsmen tell us that in stripping it we should avoid
"girdling" the tree--that is, removing the bark the entire distance
round--but should leave a piece several inches wide, that the flow of
sap shall not be wholly stopped. Having determined upon the size of the
canoe (ours is twenty-four inches long), select a part of the tree as
free from knots and imperfections as possible. Make two horizontal cuts
for three-fourths of the girth, and about two feet apart. Connect these
by two vertical cuts at their ends, and peel off the piece between the
cuts. This will be of an oblong shape, and about twenty-four inches by
eighteen. The bark consists of many layers, and the outside one should
be pulled off and discarded, those beneath being much handsomer in color
and finish.
[Illustration]
The diagram shows the shape in which the piece is to be first marked
with pencil, and then cut with knife or shears. The edges from B round
to A and C, and from D round to E and F, are next to be joined, and
sewed with an X stitch in colored silk or thread. The natural curve of
the bark shapes an excellent bottom to the little craft, and a gunwale,
which prevents splitting, and gives a more ship-shape appearance to it,
is easily prepared by taking a thinner piece than that of which the body
of the canoe is made, cutting two strips an inch wide and long enough to
extend from A to F, folding them lengthwise, and stitching them as
before, crease uppermost, over the edges. A better curve, and perhaps
added strength, may be secured by running a small wire under the crease,
but this is both troublesome and unnecessary. Two or three thwarts can
be made without difficulty from a bit of soft pine, and held in place
just under the gunwale by small brads.
Two coats of thin shellac give a beautiful, and lasting finish to the
work, and one is really surprised at the pretty result of so slight an
expenditure of time and labor. Suspended from a hook or an archway by
bright ribbons attached to the prow, stern, and sides, and filled with
dried grapes, or, better still, lined with a shaped tin vessel
containing moss and planted with ferns, the canoe becomes a graceful
household ornament, as well as a charming reminder of a summer's
holiday.
OUR BULL-FIGHT.
BY JIMMY BROWN.
I'm going to stop improving my mind. It gets me into trouble all the
time. Grown-up folks can improve their minds without doing any harm, for
nobody ever tells them that their conduct is such, and that there isn't
the least excuse in the world for them: but just as sure as a boy tries
to improve his mind, especially with animals, he gets into dreadful
difficulties.
There was a man came to our town to lecture a while ago. He had been a
great traveller, and knew all about Rome and Niagara Falls and the North
Pole, and such places, and father said: "Now, Jimmy, here's an
opportunity for you to learn something and improve your mind go and take
your mother and do take an interest in something besides games."
Well, I went to the lecture. The man told all about the Australian
savages and their boomerangs. He showed us a boomerang, which is a stick
with two legs, and an Australian will throw it at a man, and it will go
and hit him, and come back of its own accord. Then he told us about the
way the Zulus throw their assegais--that's the right way to spell
it--and spear an Englishman that is morn ten rods away from them. Then
he showed a long string with a heavy lead ball on each end, and said the
South Americans would throw it at a wild horse, and it would wind around
the horse's legs, and tie itself into a bow-knot, and then the South
Americans would catch the horse. But the best of all was the account of
a bull-fight which he saw in Spain, with the Queen sitting on a throne,
and giving a crown of evergreens to the chief bull-fighter. He said that
bull-fighting was awfully cruel, and that he told us about it so that we
might be thankful that we are so much better than those dreadful Spanish
people, who will watch a bull-fight all day, and think it real fun.
The next day I told Mr. Travers about the boomerang, and he said it was
all true. Once there was an Australian savage in a circus, and he got
angry, and he threw his boomerang at a man who was in the third story of
a hotel. The boomerang went down one street and up another, and into the
hotel door, and upstairs, and knocked the man on the head, and came back
the same way right into the Australian savage's hand.
I was so anxious to show father that I had listened to the lecture that
I made a boomerang just like the one the lecturer had. When it was done,
I went out into the back yard, and slung it at a cat on the roof of our
house. It never touched the cat, but it went right through the
dining-room window, and gave Mr. Travers an awful blow in the eye,
besides hitting Sue on the nose. It stopped right there in the
dining-room, and never came back to me at all, and I don't believe a
word the lecturer said about it. I don't feel courage to tell what
father said about it.
Then I tried to catch Mr. Thompson's dog, that lives next door to us,
with two lead balls tied on the ends of a long string. I didn't hit the
dog any more than I did the cat, but I didn't do any harm except to Mrs.
Thompson's cook, and she ought to be thankful that it was only her arm,
for the doctor said that if the balls had hit her on the head they would
have broken it, and the consequences might have been serious.
It was a good while before I could find anything to make an assegai out
of; but after hunting all over the house, I came across a lovely piece
of bamboo about ten feet long, and just as light as a feather. Then I
got a big knife blade that hadn't any handle to it, and that had been
lying in father's tool chest for ever so long, and fastened it on the
end of the bamboo. You wouldn't believe how splendidly I could throw
that assegai, only the wind would take it, and you couldn't tell when
you threw it where it would bring up. I don't see how the Zulus ever
manage to hit an Englishman; but Mr. Travers says that the Englishmen
are all so made that you can't very well miss them. And then perhaps the
Zulus, when they want to hit them, aim at something else. One day I was
practicing with the assegai at our barn door, making believe that it was
an Englishman, when Mr. Carruthers, the butcher, drove by, and the
assegai came down and went through his foot, and pinned it to the wagon.
But he didn't see me, and I guess he got it out after a while, though I
never saw it again.
But what the lecturer taught us about bull-fights was worse than
anything else. Tom McGinnis's father has a terrible bull in the pasture,
and Tom and I agreed that we'd have a bull-fight, only, of course, we
wouldn't hurt the bull. All we wanted to do was to show our parents how
much we had learned about the geography and habits of the Spaniards.
Tom McGinnis's sister Jane, who is twelve years old, and thinks she
knows everything, said she'd be the Queen of Spain, and give Tom and me
evergreen wreaths. I got an old red curtain out of the dining-room, and
divided it with Tom, so that we could wave it in the bull's face. When a
bull runs after a bull-fighter, the other bull-fighter just waves his
red rag, and the bull goes for him and lets the first bull-fighter
escape. The lecturer said that there wasn't any danger so long as one
fellow would always wave a red rag when the bull ran after the other
fellow, and of course we believed him.
Pretty nearly all the school came down to the pasture to see our
bull-fight. The Queen of Spain sat on the fence, because there wasn't
any other throne, and the rest of the fellows and girls stood behind the
fence. The bull was pretty savage; but Tom and I had our red rags, and
we weren't afraid of him.
As soon as we went into the pasture the bull came for me, with his head
down, and bellowing as if he was out of his mind. Tom rushed up and
waved his red rag, and the bull stopped running after me, and went after
Tom, just as the lecturer said he would.
[Illustration: "HE WENT TWENTY FEET RIGHT UP INTO THE AIR."]
I know I ought to have waved my red rag, so as to rescue Tom, but I was
so interested that I forgot all about it, and the bull caught up with
Tom. I should think he went twenty feet right up into the air, and as he
came down he hit the Queen of Spain, and knocked her about six feet
right against Mr. McGinnis, who had come down to the pasture to stop the
fight.
The doctor says they'll all get well, though Tom's legs are all broke,
and his sister's shoulder is out of joint, and Mr. McGinnis has got to
get a new set of teeth. Father didn't do a thing to me--that is, with
anything--but he talked to me till I made up my mind that I'd never try
to learn anything from a lecturer again, not even if he lectures about
Indians and scalping-knives.
THE OLD MILL.
Oh, the merry mill-stream it is sparkling and bright
As it runs down the hill-side in shadow and light;
Now it circles in pools, and now throws a cascade,
And laughs out in high glee at the leap it has made.
With its ripples are mingled on many a day
The shouts and the laughter of children at play;
And many a picnic is joyously spread
On its banks, where the green branches wave overhead.
But the jolliest place is the old ruined mill,
With the great wooden water-wheel, solemn and still;
Once it whirled round and round with the rush of the stream,
Till a new mill was built to be driven by steam.
Now the children climb over its big wooden spokes
But the wheel into motion they never can coax;
They may clamber and push, they may tug with a zest,
They can not awake the old giant from rest.
And perhaps, if it only could speak, it would say:
"After all the hard labor I've done in my day,
It is pleasant to know that the children may still
Find their happiest times in the old ruined mill."
[Illustration]
[Illustration: OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.]
Are you sorry, little folks, that your vacation weeks are flying away so
rapidly? They fairly race, says Lottie C., when the second week of
August has come. So they do; but I am sure Lottie would not like a whole
year without school or studies. Fred H. is making a collection of
butterflies, and finds the occupation very interesting. Etta R. has
never until this summer seen the ocean; she likes to hear the roar of
the breakers, and to watch the great waves rolling in upon the shore.
Tom P., whose mother has been ill, has been taking care of her, there
being no girls at home. Well done, Tom. The boy who is kind and
thoughtful in his manner to mother is manly, and on the way to make a
gentleman. That is what a gentleman is, boys--just a _gentle man_. Think
of it. Pauline C. has been reading Mrs. Browning's poems in her
vacation. She has spent her time very wisely. And you, Edward and
Priscy, Charles and Kate, Theodore and Isabel, Lulu and Minnie, and all
the dear girls and boys who come clustering around me even in my dreams,
I am glad when I think how busy and bright you are, and when I hear how
you are trying every day to do right and be good. Our Post-office Box
has been crowded lately with your sparkling letters, but it is very
elastic; so, little Sunbeams, keep on shining.
* * * * *
ORION, ILLINOIS.
I am a little boy seven years old. I have a canary-bird named
Dicky, who sings the day long. I had two pet rabbits, named Bunny
and Snowflake. On the Fourth of July a dog caught Snowflake and
killed him. I felt very bad about it. Papa buried it in the yard,
and I am going to put a head-stone at its grave. Papa says a neat
board, with "Snowflake" on it, will do. I have two little chickens
named Specky and Blackie; and mamma got another rabbit, and his
name is Darling. He is as white as snow, and his eyes are red as
fire. I feed them on clover, bread, cabbage, and some nice tender
grass. I can read in the Second Reader. I am going to school this
winter. I can print on my slate. Do you like to get letters from
little boys? If you do, I guess I will write another some time.
Good-by. I like "Mr. Stubbs's Brother" ever so much.
S. P. D.
Poor little Snowflake! If I were you, dear, I would plant a rose-bush
beside his grave. What dreadful things have happened to some of our
pets! Of course I like to hear from little boys, and you must write
again when you are in the Third Reader.
* * * * *
PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA.
I want to tell you about a smart little girl named Hebe at our
school. She is only six years old. One day Miss S. said, "What does
c-a-n-e spell, Hebe?" Hebe said she didn't know. Then Miss S. said,
"What do gentlemen walk with?" and Hebe said, "Ladies." Another
time one of the teachers was hearing her spell, and she couldn't
spell one word right; but at last she did. The teacher asked why
she didn't spell it that way at first, and she said, "Oh, I knew it
all the time, only I was just hugbugging."
LUCY P. W.
What a droll little scholar! She must make the class quite merry.
* * * * *
WATERLOO, IOWA.
I have taken YOUNG PEOPLE from the first number, and have read the
letters in the Post-office Box with great interest, but have never
before ventured to write one myself; but now I thought I would
write and tell you about my trip on the Fourth of July across Iowa.
Monday evening I went alone to Cedar Rapids, and in the morning
papa took me in his mail-car, and I rode with him to Council Bluffs
over the Chicago and Northwestern Railroad. It is a beautiful
prairie country, with occasional belts of timber on the streams. We
everywhere saw splendid farms, with fine houses and barns and large
herds. We passed through an Indian reservation near Tama City. The
Indian men were out with their fish-poles and guns, and their
squaws were hoeing in the fields, while the boys, like true
American boys, were playing with fire-crackers. We passed, near
Ames, the State Agricultural College and Farm. Marshalltown and
Boone are thriving towns on this route. At Boone we came to Iowa's
vast coal field, and we passed several mines; it is "soft" coal.
Near Moingona I saw the little house where Kate Shelley lives, and
crossed the long bridge that she crept over at night and in a
terrible storm to warn a coming train of danger. The last twenty
miles of our trip are the most interesting. On the right are the
"bottom" lands of the Missouri, with the highlands of Nebraska in
the distance. On our left are the "bluffs," rising perhaps two
hundred feet, and taking many curious shapes. Once we came in sight
of the great river, and I can now understand why it is called the
"Big Muddy." At nearly every station on the route the people were
out to celebrate the Fourth; flags were flying, bands playing, and
the small boys and fire-crackers were everywhere. I hope they all
had a pleasant, time; I know I did. As I have never seen a letter
in the YOUNG PEOPLE from Waterloo, I hope you will like mine well
enough to print it.
MARY F. M.
We are all glad when our correspondents describe their pleasant trips,
and tell what they have seen when away from home. I think Mary's letter
shows that she took notice of what was worth looking at in her
Fourth-of-July journey across Iowa.
* * * * *
BRECKSVILLE, OHIO.
I was ten years old December 20, 1881, and live in Cleveland, but I
am staying here for my vacation. It is a very pretty country
village. I like very much to ride on the hay wagon, but the hay is
damp to-day, and can not be taken in. I am in the Fourth Reader at
school. I would have been in the Fifth, only, when I came from
Brooklyn, New York, I was put back on account of the difference in
the schools. I like the West better than the East. I am getting
stouter every day. I have a brother seven years old, named Sumner.
LINCOLN S.
I think it is great fun to ride on top of a load of hay. It makes one
feel quite proud to be so high up in the world.
* * * * *
PEEKSKILL, NEW YORK.
I have taken HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE a year and a half, and like it
very much. My home is on the State Camp Ground, but we moved away
when the soldiers came there. We moved the 16th of June; I was
sorry to come away. I do not like it where we live now; it is a
little cooped-up place on the edge of Peekskill. I am the only girl
of the family, but I have four brothers. The week of the Fourth of
July we all went over on a high hill overlooking the camp ground to
see the fire-works. We can not hear the music very plainly, because
of the hill in front of us. I have been over to the camp six times
since we moved. We have a pet cat that can catch fish. One day last
summer two of my brothers were out rowing in a boat, and the cat
was with them, and when they were quite a way out in the creek she
jumped overboard and swam ashore.
A. G. C.
Pussy was an exception to cats in general. They seldom like to wet their
dainty feet. It must be very pleasant to have four brothers to take care
of and pet their only sister. I hope yours are very fond of you, and
that you are kind and good to them.
* * * * *
BRIGHTON, SUSSEX, ENGLAND.
I am an English boy nine years old. I have a sister named Eva; she
is four years old; and I have also a jolly little brother named
Harold, and he is two. I have only one pet, a canary, whose name is
Dick; he sings very loud. A friend of my father's, who used to go
to school with him, lives in Philadelphia, and he sends me the
numbers of YOUNG PEOPLE every month. I do enjoy reading them, and I
think Jimmy Brown's stories are capital. When I went to the
Zoological Gardens in London I saw Jumbo have his bath; his keeper
had to give him a good scolding before he would go in. It was so
deep he dived down quite out of sight. I hope you will print this.
I have just got over an illness, and can not go out much. Good-by.
PERCY WILLIAM S.
By this time Percy is, I hope, quite well and strong again. We like to
receive pleasant words from little friends across the water.
* * * * *
SHOPIERE, WISCONSIN.
This is a very small place, though it is very pleasant. I have
never seen any letters from this place, so mine will be the first.
I have a pet sheep named Nig; like "Mary's lamb," it followed me to
school one day. It was a warm day, and I had gone to school in the
afternoon. Mamma was home alone, and she heard Nig bleating as
though something were the matter, and she went out and found him
panting as if he were very warm; so she let him through into the
yard (never thinking that the gate was open), and he began to eat,
so she did not watch him. But the first she knew he was gone. One
of the girls at school saw him, and knew he was mine, and began to
laugh. The teacher asked her what she was laughing at, and she
said, "Lula's lamb is here." I went out, and found him walking
around, trying to find me. I took him home then. I have two other
sheep and two lambs. I am taking up a great deal of room, but I
want to tell you about thirteen chickens I had last summer. Papa
gave them to me for taking care of the other hens. I soon got them
tame, and I could take corn and shell it over myself, and they
would scramble over me, sometimes pecking at my teeth. I sold them
for twelve shillings. I have a brother De Witt who is fifteen. I am
twelve.
LULA H. P.
So Lula's lamb was like Mary's, and "it made the children laugh and play
to see a lamb at school." Why did you not give him a prettier name,
dear? You are very kind to your pets, and that makes them so gentle. You
must have been as pretty as a picture, with the little chicks scrambling
over you for the kernels of corn.
* * * * *
OMEGA P. O., MADISON PARISH, LOUISIANA.
I'm a little boy six years old, and I take HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
I'm more interested in Jimmy Brown's stories and the little letters
than in anything else, though I like "Mr. Stubbs's Brother." My
papa is on the railroad in Arkansas, and will be home to see us
soon. He says there are ever so many ticks in the pine woods. I
feed and water the chickens, and sweep the hall and gallery every
day. I will tell you of the overflow in my next letter. I've got a
buddie George; he lives with his auntie May, and I live with my
aunt Leila, as my own mamma is dead, and my papa married my aunt.
With many good wishes to Toby Tyler, your little friend,
JAMES HOWARD R.
I hope none of those annoying little pests called ticks will fasten on
those of my children who live in the Southern pine regions. I know all
about them, and they are really "horrid," to borrow a word which is used
sometimes when it ought not to be.
* * * * *
JERSEY CITY HEIGHTS, NEW JERSEY.
I am eleven years old. I have just been reading HARPER'S YOUNG
PEOPLE, and think the letter that Ninetta wrote is very nice. I
have no pets except a darling little brother three years old, and
he says he is going to write you a letter. I have just learned how
to make feather-edge, and I have made half a yard to-day. I have
taken HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE ever since it was published, and I
think it is the nicest paper I ever read, or ever expect to read. I
hope this letter is not too long, and will be printed, as I would
like to surprise some of my friends who take the paper. On the
following page you will see my brother's letter.
Do you know, dear child, that you forgot to sign your name, and so I do
not know who my little correspondent is, although she is much brighter
than I, for I have tried in vain to learn to make that puzzling trimming
called feather-edge. Please kiss little brother for his letter.
* * * * *
OXFORD, OHIO.
I am a little girl eight years old. I have two little kittens, one
black and one white. I have a dog, and his name is Fido. We have a
dove, and she has two little doves in the nest in the cedar-tree.
We have every HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE that has been printed. I play
with my brother Sam, who is seven now, and we have two velocipedes.
LIVY R.
* * * * *
PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA.