"It's jist these same I'm maning--the very wans me own eyes saw shtalin'
away the Daacon's calf."
At this we burst out laughing, and gave the deputy-sheriff an account of
our frolic of the night before. Mike listened unmoved, simply asking, as
we finished:
"But wheriver is the Daacon's baste, thin?"
This we could not answer. The deputy-sheriff whispered with the
Irishman, seeming to intercede for us; but Mike only answered, doggedly:
"The Daacon was called away suddint lasht night, and only mesilf to see
to things. Them b'ys had the calf--wheriver is the calf?"
His stubborn faithfulness was not to be shaken, and the deputy-sheriff
gave up.
"Well, boys, seeing he's so set, I guess you'd better just jump in and
go along with me--being such a valuable animal, you see. Of course it
won't amount to anything, mere matter of form; only a little talk before
Squire Granger."
We were a crest-fallen three as we mounted that spring-wagon, dimly
realizing that, spite of the deputy-sheriff's politeness, the plain
English of all this was that we were under arrest, and on our way to a
magistrate's office. Our worst fears all the morning had been of our
being called upon to pay the price of a choice specimen of blooded
stock, but an indefinite train of horrible possibilities now seemed to
open out before our imaginations.
How our cheeks burned as we found ourselves before the country justice,
and perceived the crowd drawn by the excitement of a preliminary
examination, and heard the astonishment and horror expressed that we
should be the criminals. How our shame and confusion increased as the
other members of the picnic, whom we had devoutly hoped would not allow
their day's sport to be shortened by our leaving the party so early,
quietly filed in, and added their gaze to the others'.
The justice seemed somewhat embarrassed himself. There did not seem to
be much of a case, but what little there was was dead against us. The
only thing about it was Mike's unwavering testimony to having seen us in
the lane driving away the calf. This we could not deny, and all our
protestations of its being only a joke were thrown into confusion by his
stubbornly repeated question:
"Thin, wheriver is the Daacon's baste?"
The thing began to look less and less like a joke to us as we found it
impossible to bring any witnesses for the defense. The justice and the
deputy-sheriff whispered solemnly together.
All at once there was a stir in court. Deacon Dodd elbowed his way into
our neighborhood, and as he looked us over, his genial face expanded
into a laugh that shook the very rafters.
"Well, boys, have you had enough fun?"
We had nothing to say. The justice seemed cheered by the entrance into
the case of something lively, and asked the Deacon if he had any
evidence to offer. We, the prisoners, were not encouraged, feeling very
sure his testimony could not be in our favor. The justice had some
trouble in getting things sobered down enough to swear the Deacon
properly, but when this was accomplished he was allowed to give his
account in his own way, which went something like this:
"Yes, your honor, I felt bad when the boys wanted them pound sweets, for
I always do take to giving to boys--used to be a boy myself, you know,
and it don't seem so very long ago neither, 'though I don't pretend to
be as young as I was once. Well, when I got into my little tool-room in
the barn to hang up my scythe, and sat there to cool off a bit, being as
the evening was warmish, and them poor chaps, after having tired
themselves all out trying to find something nice in the orchard, and
couldn't, come to take a rest at the barn door, and says they, 'The
Deacon's an old skinflint, and wants to put every cent he can in his
pocket.' Likewise wishing every apple on his place would rot and such
like--I say, Squire, I could hardly forbear just getting up and going
out to them boys and saying, 'Boys, just you go 'n' get every pound
sweet on that tree--_don't you leave one_.' But, you see, my wife, Mis'
Dodd, had told me how she'd been and promised every individual one of
them pound sweets to the hospital; for them poor souls lying there sick
found it hard to get anything real relishing, and liked 'em baked. So I
couldn't help myself, seeing she'd passed her word for a charity, and
would 'a felt hard at me, naturally, if I'd gone back on her.
"But when the boys thought they'd like a little fun with the Jersey
calf, I knew they wouldn't do the pretty creatur' any hurt, for I heard
'em saying how they knew I set great store by her. The evening was
getting cooler then, so I just took a walk along behind the hedge, they
being on t'other side.--You did have a time with her, didn't you, boys?"
What a roar went up from that roomful of listeners!
"'Twas tough; yes, I could see that, a regular tussle to get her along.
I'd 'a helped you, for she follows me like a lamb, only I was afraid
'twould spoil your fun if I took hold too. So I just kept along till you
tied her up safe and comfortable--"
Here Mike broke in, in total disregard of the proprieties of a
court-room:
"But, Daacon, wheriver's the baste _now_? Be the howly poker she's clane
gone off the farrum!"
"She's in the northeast corner pasture. I'd been calculating to put her
there, to be more in the shade, and the boys gave me just so much help
with her, you see. After I'd put her there and got home, I found a
letter from my son Isaac, telling how he was sick, and wanted to see me
and his mother, Mis' Dodd. So I just hitched up, and without waiting to
see Mike, me and her started off to drive over there--better than four
miles 'tis--and the calf slipped my mind till I just now got back, and
heard tell how Mike here was making a bother with the boys. That's all,
your honor."
His honor, I knew, had been dreadfully worried at not having been able
to give more dignity to the court, and he now opened his mouth, I
suppose to dismiss the proceedings in proper form, but the Deacon gave
him no chance at all. I am not prepared to say that we three are not
legally under arrest to this day.
"Better go back to your fishing now, boys," he said. "Too bad to have
your day broke up so; but Mike meant well, you know."
"Three cheers for Mike!" shouted some one, intent on pushing the fun as
far as possible.
"Three cheers for Deacon Dodd!" came next, and when they had been given
with a will by the merry crowd, a cry arose:
"Three cheers for the half-grown calf!"
Before they had died away, Mike turned with a most meaning look at us
three boys, exclaiming:
"Ivery wan of 'em."
And they gave us a tiger.
A SWAN DESIGN FOR FLAT POCKET PIN-CUSHION.
BY MRS. T. W. DEWING.
[Illustration]
Mark very exactly on some thin white material of a polished surface and
fine quality outlines of the pincushion and the design. The best way to
do this is to make a very careful tracing of the design, and transfer it
by means of transfer-paper. Any carelessness in following the design
loses all the style it may possess. This done, outline the swan and all
the markings of the wing feathers, eyes, etc., with simple stitching in
a gray silk so pale as to appear white until contrasted with the
brilliant white cloth. Work the part representing water in simple
horizontal lines of chain stitch, as shown in the design, with silk of
light blue across the lower end of the circle. Work the rest of the
background in darning stitch perpendicularly from the top of the circle
to the water in a rich deep blue silk, being very careful not to
interfere with the outline of the swan or of the water.
Cut two pieces of card-board exactly the size and shape of the circle.
Mount the embroidery upon one of them, and cover the other with blue
satin. Baste the two circles thus covered together back to back, having
laid carefully between them three little circles of flannel a very
little smaller than the outer circles. Then overhand the two edges of
the pincushion very carefully together.
THE BUILDING OF ST. MARY'S OF THE PEOPLE.
A LEGEND OF CHRISTIAN ROME.
BY E. M. TRAQUAIR.
Entering Rome by what was anciently called the Flaminian Gate, but is
now the Porta del Popolo, or People's Gate, the stranger finds himself
in a large, beautiful open place called the People's Square. It lies at
the foot of the Pincian Hill, called by the ancient Romans, in the
language of the time, the Hill of Gardens. If it deserved this name in
those days, it does not deserve it less now. The most beautiful gardens
in Rome, laid out with lovely flower beds, commodious carriage drives,
and shady walks, are on its summit. A military band plays there in the
afternoons, and it is the favorite resort of the rank and fashion of
modern Rome, from the King downward.
Like much else in Rome, the history of the Pincian Gardens is sad and
terrible. The great Mistress of the World, if she was at times rich in
virtues, was just as often famed for terrible crimes. These gardens
belonged at one time to the famous epicure Lucullus. This man, possessor
of enormous wealth, loved good dinners much, but hated the trouble of
ordering them as heartily as many a fine lady of the present day. To
save himself this trouble, then, he had a number of dining-halls in his
house, each arranged in a different manner. His steward was so well
trained that he knew to a nicety, on receiving the order as to which
hall the supper was to be served in, how it was to be arranged, and what
degree of splendor it was to be of. The banquets of Lucullus became
proverbial for luxury. It is even told of him that being very fond of a
certain sort of eel he had a pond made for them in this garden. Their
favorite food being human flesh, the legend tells us that he
occasionally ordered a slave to be thrown in to them, to help to make
them fat and savory for his table.
After the death of Lucullus, these gardens passed into the hands of a
certain patrician named Valerius Asiaticus. This was during the reign of
the Emperor Claudius. The Emperor's wicked wife Messalina coveted them
for herself, so she got up a false accusation against poor Asiaticus,
who seems, on the whole, to have been a very worthy man. But his
innocence did not save him. He was condemned to death, and his property
given to Messalina. The wretched woman's triumph did not last long,
however. Claudius was told of her wicked life, and she was killed by his
command on the very place she had obtained for herself by such a horrid
crime. Word was brought to the Emperor while he was sitting at table
that his wicked wife was dead. He made no reply, and went on quietly
eating his supper. They were a queer people, those old heathen Romans.
To return to the People's Square. In the centre is a tall obelisk
brought from the Temple of the Sun in Egypt during the reign of
Augustus. It was thousands of years old, perhaps, before Rome was built.
A beautiful fourfold fountain at its base spouts clear sparkling water
from the mouths of four antique lions of basalt. It is the most
picturesque square in Rome.
At the left-hand side of the Porta del Popolo, as you enter, stands the
ancient Church of St. Mary's of the People, concerning the building of
which the following story is told:
When the bloody and cruel Emperor Nero, who had wantonly killed so many
people during his short reign, was killed in his turn, he was so
execrated by the people that none could be found to give him burial.
Then his nurse Eclaga, who still went on loving him, as some gentle
souls will do, in spite of his dreadful crimes, buried him, with the
help of two other women, compassionate like herself, in a tomb at the
foot of the Hill of Gardens. On this tomb, for many years, a wreath of
fresh flowers was found every morning, no one knowing who had placed it
there. So they watched one night, and just before break of day
discovered this poor faithful old woman bringing this loving offering to
the memory of him whom she remembered only as the innocent babe she had
nursed in her arms.
As time went on, these offerings ceased. Eclaga was dead and gone, and
with her had passed away every loving remembrance of the wretched man
who was buried at the foot of the Pincian Hill. Horror and loathing were
the only sentiments his memory inspired. By-and-by nothing marked the
spot where his body lay but a gigantic walnut-tree which had grown out
of his grave. It was so large that it overshadowed all the place and
covered it with gloom.
This gloom was still further increased by an innumerable quantity of
large crows that had taken up their abode in this tree. They darkened
the air all around by their flight. The people inhabiting the
neighborhood had no rest by night or by day by reason of their hideous,
unearthly croaking. Every means tried to drive them away proved vain.
They kept their abode on the tree above Nero's tomb, and defied all
earthly power to assail them.
Then a great fear fell on all the people, for they thought that it was
not with natural crows they had to do, but with demons who were keeping
watch over the grave of the wicked Emperor. Then, as there was no help
in man, they prayed to God.
Now Paschal the First, who was Bishop of Rome at that time, and a good
and holy man, had a strange dream one night. In this dream it was
revealed to him that no earthly power could drive away the demon crows,
which, if not exorcised, would soon overpower the whole of Rome. The
only way to do this effectually was to go forth at early morning, at the
head of all his clergy, singing psalms and hymns and praying fervently.
Then they were to cut down the tree, and take it out by the roots to the
very last fibre of it, and build a church on the spot where it had
stood.
Full of joy at this revelation, Paschal summoned his clergy, and told
them of his dream. Then he went, as he had been directed, at their head
in procession through the city, singing psalms and hymns. Arrived at the
spot, they knelt down and prayed fervently. Then they commenced to hew
down the tree, the supposed demons all the while uttering wild and
unearthly croakings. After the tree was cut down, and every root of it
taken up, the crows flew away with a terrible noise.
A beautiful church was then built on the spot; and as the funds for its
erection were entirely collected and given by the common people, it
received the name of St. Mary's of the People. There are some beautiful
marbles in it, and many fine old paintings, some of them by the most
famous of the old masters.
[Illustration]
Oh, such a bunch of posies!
We found them on our way,
And gathered them for Robin,
Who lies abed all day.
"You'll soon be well, dear laddie,"
The posies sweet will say.
* * * * *
[Illustration]
Oh dear, but he's queer, this wonderful snail,
O'er the whole wide world he may travel and sail;
But where'er he may go on the longest track,
He carries his house on his funny back.
What wonder, then, that he likes to roam,
When the comical fellow is always at home.
* * * * *
[Illustration]
Wilt thou listen, Jesus dear,
To the prayer that I would say;
Thou didst promise Thou wouldst hear
When the little children pray.
I would like, dear Lord, to be
Patient, gentle, good, and mild,
Ever growing more like Thee,
And as Thou wert when a child.
[Illustration]
OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.
Just about this time, dears, your mammas are very busy in looking at the
fall fashions. They wish to dress their girls and boys so neatly and
comfortably that they shall have no temptation to think too much about
their clothes. And then, too, they want you to wear pretty things,
because children should look bright and beautiful, just as flowers and
birds do.
If you choose, you may ask them to make your own new costumes like some
of these pictures. We think, too, the little women who write to the
Post-office Box about their doll families, and who have so much on their
minds in the way of caring for the Lady Bettys, and Miss Lucys, and
Mabels, and Isabels, whom they so dearly love, will be glad to see some
dainty fall fashions for dolls. The little girls in the picture are very
graceful and sweet.
I wonder if I can help you a little in dressing these same dollies.
There are two tall girls nearly in the middle. The one on the right we
will call Alice. Her dress is of fine soft cashmere of an olive tint.
She has a wide sash of satin a little darker than her gown. Her friend
Florence has on a petticoat of Indian red, which is a peculiarly rich
dark shade. If mamma will give you a few bits of velvet or velveteen for
this petticoat, and also for the shoulder cape, Miss Florence will look
very charming. Her over-dress may be of fawn-colored silk.
Shall we call the two little ladies on Alice's right Dotty and Dimple?
Dimple has her face this way, and Dotty's is turned aside. We will dress
Dimple in lavender and heliotrope, and Dotty shall be a cunning little
maiden in two shades of brown.
Now for the others. Don't you wish we could see little Marjorie's blue
eyes and rosy cheeks? But we can only guess at them. Our artist has
shown us that she knows how to stand up straight, and the way she holds
her head is delightful. She is wearing, as you see, a pretty gray check,
and she is a very good match for her little sister in that stylish cadet
blue, and her cousin Willie in his jaunty suit.
When you shall have succeeded in dressing some of your pets like these
pictures, you may write and tell me all about the fun you had in cutting
out the clothes and making them fit. Be sure you write about how you
contrived the little bonnets and hats. Perhaps you will be trying your
skill at dressing dolls for a fair this winter, or in making Christmas
presents, and these illustrations may give you some new ideas.
The boys must not feel that they are left out of this pleasure. They may
draw these little figures on bits of paper, and then color them
beautifully with their paints. Or, if they do so very carefully indeed,
they may color the figures as they stand.
* * * * *
FOOCHOW, CHINA.
I was very glad to see my letter printed in one of the February
papers. I do not expect to learn to write Chinese, but I learn to
talk a little from the servants. Our Amah talks "pidgin English."
This is the way she talks, "Amy just now have got too muchee rain,
no can go walkee."
I have a doll that can say Papa and Mamma, but my mamma does not
let me play with it, as it is wax. There are a great many roaches
here, and one bit a piece of my dolly's cheek out when it was put
away in the wardrobe.
Our only pet is a small cat, which is very lazy, and does nothing
but eat and sleep. Sometimes we dress her up in doll's clothes as a
baby. We have a very nice aquarium with gold-fish, shrimp, and one
other kind of fish in it. The gold-fish have double tails. In the
fall we hope to get the aquarium nicely filled with plants and
things.
It is very hot here in the summer, but there is a large island,
called Sharp Peak, in the China Sea, thirty miles from here, where
the missionaries have houses, and go to spend part of the time.
There is a very nice beach, and the bathing is very good. We went
down for two weeks in June, and had a nice time. My brothers and I
found some pretty shells. Please tell me if the lady whom you heard
talk about China has ever been in Foochow. I have 568 stamps in my
album now.
AMY C. J.
Your cat is very accommodating to be willing to wear doll's clothes to
please you. Ask mamma to let you play with your wax doll, and then she
will not be in danger of making a dinner for roaches or rats. I think
the lady I spoke of when replying to your former letter has been in
Foochow.
* * * * *
BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS.
All the young people will be writing about their vacations, I
suppose, and so I will write about mine. The most interesting part
will be, I think, about my visit to Nantucket. Nantucket is a very
old town. The houses are all built away from the sea, so when one
is walking through the streets one has no view of the water at all.
The very old houses all have on their roofs what are called
"Lookouts." These are small railed platforms for the people to
stand in and look out for the whaling vessels. When one came in
sight, whoever was on the lookout gave the signal, and then great
preparations were commenced--cooking mostly, I guess, for they
didn't illuminate and send up fire-works in those days.
A splendid view of the town of Nantucket is obtained from the
Unitarian church tower. In this tower is a very old bell, with a
cross on two of its sides, and a Latin inscription under each
cross. This bell was originally intended to form one of twelve
chimes in an ancient Catholic church in Spain, but it was stolen,
and after changing hands several times, it was landed in Nantucket.
Whoever goes to Nantucket must be sure and visit the Old Mill,
which is a great curiosity. There is only one other like it in
America. The curious part about it is that it is so old, and it
never has been changed since it was first built, many, many years
ago. The town-crier is another ancient institution, and with his
bell and tin fish-horn he goes about the streets crying out all the
news. When they wish to have an auction in Nantucket, everybody who
has anything to sell carries it to the corner of some designated
street, and there the things are auctioned off. We did not have
time to go over to Siasconsett, but I mean to if I ever go to
Nantucket again. The next time I write I will tell you about
Plymouth. Good-by.
A. B.
Well, you have made me feel a strong desire to go to quaint old
Nantucket. Don't you think the good home cooking must have tasted very
delicious to hungry sailors who had been used to sea fare during long
and tedious voyages? And how happy must dear little girls have been
when, climbing to the lookout, they saw in the distance their fathers'
ships coming in! How they must have hurried down to tell mother, and
what a joyful troop must have been at the wharf to welcome the bronzed
and bearded man when once more he set foot on his native land!
* * * * *
BRICK CHURCH, NEW JERSEY.
I am eleven years of age, and have been receiving HARPER'S YOUNG
PEOPLE as a present for nearly two years. I think it is one of the
nicest Christmas presents I ever had given to me, and I enjoy the
stories, puzzles, and Post-office Box very much. As school opened
last Monday, I thought I would wind up my holidays by sending you
fifty cents of my own for Young People's Cot, and hope it may help
a little to do some poor sick child good.
I had a real good time during vacation, and among other things, my
brothers and sisters and I (there are six of us all--steps and
stairs, mamma says) made a collection of caterpillars, putting them
in boxes with covers of glass, so that we could watch them. We fed
them with cabbage leaves and turnip-tops. Did you know some
caterpillars were cannibals? We caught some very pretty green ones
with black stripes and yellow horns, and they soon attached
themselves to the side of the box by two threads, and after a day
or so their skins came off, and they turned into cocoons. It was
just after they hung themselves up that the other caterpillars
attacked them, and kept them company until they had eaten them all
up. Wasn't it awful?
We have lots of butterflies now, but I scarcely think so much of
them since I know how they behaved in their youth. But my uncle Jim
says they are regenerated, and I suppose that takes the bad out.
Hoping, dear Postmistress, that you had a pleasant time this
summer. I am your little friend,
EFFIE W. R.
You were well employed in watching the caterpillars. That is the best
way to study natural history, not depending on books only, but taking
notice for yourself of the ways and habits of insects and birds.
* * * * *
SHELTON, NEBRASKA.
I thought that I must write to you because all the other little
girls and boys do. I take HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE and _The Pansy_,
and like them both. I have a pet pig, and I call her Peggy. She is
an orphan; I raised her on a bottle. I once had a pet kitty. I
would put a shawl around her and rock her, and she would go to
sleep. Papa has a horse that I can ride. I can ride sideways on a
gallop without a saddle. My home is on a farm with my papa and
mamma, and I am their only child. We had a hail-storm here in July
which destroyed the wheat for many miles around. I attended the
Grand Army Reunion at Grand Island, Nebraska.
LOUIE L.
Take care that the horse does not run away with you one of these merry
days when you are riding without a saddle.
* * * * *
DETROIT, MICHIGAN.