and crossed it. As they passed on they met a gradually increasing
throng, apparently fleeing from the fire and seeking a place of safety.
The smoke and cinders grew more plentiful, and the sky was now lit from
horizon to horizon. At last they reached the office, and Mr. Perkins
opened it with his key. Everything inside was quiet and undisturbed; but
he felt a strange degree of alarm, none the less acute because somewhat
vague. He almost mechanically opened his safe, and stood looking at its
contents, and mentally wondering whether it would preserve them in case
of the advent of the flames. Even while he was thus engaged, the noise
outside grew louder and louder. Crowds were heard hurrying through the
street, and many were crying and shouting. Bob went to the door and
opened it, only to shrink back almost in terror. The burning cinders had
been blown over to the street where the office was, and the block had
taken fire.
Mr. Perkins saw in a moment that his office must be destroyed, and that
he had not even time to save all the contents of his safe. He hurriedly
selected a few documents, wrapped them up in a paper, and gave them to
Bob, telling him to carry them in his hand, and be sure not to let them
pass from his possession. Then, with a caution to keep close to him, and
hurriedly closing the safe, he started again for his house. They were
compelled to go a long distance around, and even then reached their
destination with much difficulty. Mr. Perkins, as they passed along, had
carefully observed the course of the flames, and made up his mind that
they would reach his house, as they had already reached his office. He
proceeded at once, therefore, to send his family to the residence of
some friends in the country, again cautioning Bob about the parcel of
papers. Then he called some men to his aid, took as much furniture as
possible out of his house, and sent it in carts to one of the parks. As
the last cart started, the flames caught the eaves, and he looked back
to see them enveloping what had been a pleasant home. There was no time
for regrets; he only hurried his driver along, hoping that he would
reach a place where his effects would be secure. All in vain: he saw
them consumed in their turn, and he was finally compelled to seek
protection himself under a bridge, where he passed the rest of that
terrible night. In the morning he joined his family at the house whither
they had gone. The calamity which had happened was so great that none of
them quite realized it. In a few hours not only had their beautiful city
been laid in ashes, but their pretty home, Mr. Perkins's place of
business, and much of their property had been likewise destroyed.
"Well," at last remarked Mr. Perkins, "I am glad of _one_ thing. I
secured a good many valuable mortgages, railroad bonds, and notes of
hand, and wrapped them in a package, and gave them to my careful Bob to
keep, and I know that he has them now."
"Yes, papa," cried Bob, with a glowing face. "The parcel never left my
hands except for a few minutes, when I laid it on the piano while I was
helping mamma put her jewels in a bag. Here it is;" and he handed his
father a paper parcel. Mr. Perkins opened it, and took out--half a dozen
sandwiches![3] To such a state of excitement had the terrible events of
the night brought every one that poor Bob never knew when he exchanged
the precious bundle of documents for the parcel of provisions which his
thoughtful mother had put up.
[3] Fact.
* * * * *
Bob staid in Chicago, which, as every one knows, has been rebuilt, and
is handsomer than ever. Perhaps his name can be found in the directory;
but if any one should meet him who has read this story, it would be well
not to allude to either parcels or sandwiches.
MEMPHIS.
Memphis was one of the oldest of the world's great cities. It was built
on the banks of the Nile when all Europe was a savage wilderness, and
its inhabitants barbarians living in huts and caves. The great city grew
up under the rule of the Pharaohs to be a scene of busy trade, almost as
thickly peopled as London or New York. To-day its site can scarcely be
traced. But four thousand years ago Memphis was a city of palaces and
temples. Pharaoh was lodged more splendidly than Louis XIV., and Cheops
provided himself with the most magnificent of tombs. One of the Memphian
temples is thus described: "He seemed to be in Memphis, his native city;
and entering the temple of Isis, saw it shining with the splendor of a
thousand lighted lamps; all the avenues of the temple were crowded with
people, and resounded with the noise of the passing throngs." The inner
shrine was supposed to be the residence of the goddess. To Memphis,
perhaps, came Joseph, the gentle Jew, to become the ruler of the land.
There came his brethren and the Israelites to buy corn. Here the Jews
passed their four centuries of captivity; from its palaces they bore off
the jewels and gold of the Egyptians; from its memorable shore they set
out on their march; from the gates of Memphis the furious Pharaoh
followed with chariot and horse, to perish in the treacherous sea.
Nowhere can be found more striking incidents than are connected with
this desolate narrow part of the shore of the Nile. Moses, perhaps,
floated in his basket near by, and won his life with the smile of
infancy, always irresistible. It was the scene of the plagues, of the
terrible darkness, of the years of plenty and the years of want. It
nourished in splendor and wealth for a period that makes the age of most
cities seem trivial. New York is more than two hundred and fifty years
old, London about nineteen hundred: Memphis flourished for more than
three thousand years. It has passed away, but one of its labors can
never apparently perish. Cheops, one of the Memphian Kings, built the
largest of the Pyramids, and near it are several others not much less in
size. A Pyramid was no doubt a royal tomb. Various explanations have
been given of the origin and purpose of these wonderful buildings. Some
suppose them intended for astronomical purposes; others suggest that
they were designed to mark the dimensions of an inch, and fix the system
of computing distances. But history and tradition assert that they were
the tombs of the Memphian Kings.
SUSIE KINGMAN'S DECISION.
BY KATE E. McDOWELL.
CHAPTER I.
"I'm getting to quite like papa's present," said Susie Kingman, as she
thoughtfully turned over a leaf of her _Silent Comforter_, "though I
_did_ want a ring awfully, and expected one as much as could be; but
then this is much better, for it teaches me something. I've learned ever
so many verses already, for it's the first thing my eyes open upon in
the morning, and every time I come into the room I unconsciously read
over the text for the day. Let me see--yes, to-day is the 20th." And
having put back the leaf numbered nineteen, she read, "'Be kindly
affectioned one to another with brotherly love; in honor preferring one
another.' 'In honor preferring one another,'" she repeated,
musingly--"'in honor preferring one another.' I don't exactly see what
that means. I believe I'll look in the Commentary before I go to
breakfast, for if it's to be my verse for the day, I ought to understand
it at the beginning."
The breakfast bell rang as Susie descended the stairs, so she hastened
into her father's study, and taking from the book-case the volume she
wanted, turned over the leaves until Romans, xii. 10, was reached.
"Yes, here is an explanation of the very words, 'In honor preferring one
another.'" And she read, half aloud: "'The meaning appears to be this:
consider all your brethren as more worthy than yourself, and let neither
grief nor envy affect your mind at seeing another honored and yourself
neglected. This is a hard lesson, and very few persons learn it
thoroughly.'"
Susie paused with her finger on the words, saying: "I hope I shall be
one of the few that learn it. I just wish I had a chance to show that I
felt glad to have some one honored; but"--less confidently--"I don't
know as I would care to be _neglected_. No, that would be a great deal
harder." Then exclaiming, as she read on, "Why, this writer says the
very same thing: 'If we wish to see our brethren honored, still it is
with the secret condition in our own minds that we be honored _more_
than they.'" Susie slowly closed the book, saying, "It's perfectly clear
to me now"; then as baby's voice heralding the approach of the others
was heard on the stairs, she hastily replaced the book and joined them.
An hour later she might have been seen on her way to school, taking a
last look at one of her lessons as she walked along, and so occupied
with her book as not to notice a group on the school steps waving
handkerchiefs and beckoning her to hasten. At last, as she still read
on, the eager girls, too impatient to wait until she reached them, with
one accord darted down the street to meet her.
Josie Thorp playfully snatched away her book, exclaiming, "No more
studying for _you_ until you've heard the news!"
"How can you speak so disrespectfully to her Majesty?" laughed another;
at which the rest, following the last speaker's example, made low
courtesies to the bewildered Susie, who a moment before had been deep in
the grammar rules.
"What do you mean, girls?" she wonderingly stammered, looking at Sadie
Folger, who was kissing her hand in mock solemnity, and then at the
others, still courtesying and saying, "Your Majesty." "Seems to me
you're in fine spirits for Friday. I believe you've all got excused from
composition class. Tell me. What is it? Has Mr. Gorham given us a
holiday?"
"Better than that!" they exclaimed, in one voice.
"Don't keep me in suspense," pleaded Susie.
"It's too good to keep," said Sadie; "but still, girls, we must tell it
by degrees." Then, to Susie, "Well, we're going to have a May party!"
"A May party! Splendid! Who--"
"And," broke in one of the others, wondering if Susie's face _could_
look any brighter, "_you_ are to be our Queen."
"Your Queen! Are you in earnest!" she cried, her eyes dancing with
delight. "Whose party is it, and how do you know I'm to be Queen?"
"Because we're all going to vote for you," they answered, ignoring the
first part of the question. So Susie repeated,
"But whose party is it? who is getting it up?"
"All the teachers. We left Mr. Gorham talking to Miss Page and the rest.
They had a meeting at half past eight, and we five happened to be here
early; so after they had decided the matter, they told us one or two
things, and before recess Mr. Gorham will tell the whole school."
"But," said Susie, a trifle doubtfully, "then it's not certain I'm to be
Queen?"
"Just as good as certain," said Stella Morris; "for the choice is
between Florence Tracy and yourself. Mr. Gorham says you stand exactly
the same--three marks against each--and that the way to decide it will
be by vote this afternoon."
[Illustration: "I AM SURE YOU'LL HAVE EVERY VOTE."]
"I am sure you'll have every vote," said Josie, confidently, "for we
scarcely know Florence Tracy. She's _so_ quiet, and doesn't seem to care
for anything but study. Not that I dislike her at all, for she's always
pleasant enough; but still--_she isn't like you_," and she took Susie's
arm in undisguised admiration.
Susie was an acknowledged favorite, and it is needless to say she
enjoyed this school-girl homage. Others had joined the group since they
commenced talking, and each in turn had said, "You are sure of _my_
vote, Sue."
"Thank you all," she answered, looking around gratefully. "I'm half in a
dream. It seems too good to be true."
"I've just been having another talk with Miss Page," called Sadie,
bounding down the walk. "She knows more about it than any of the others,
I guess, for she saw a May-day celebration at some place on the Hudson
last summer. Every one in the school is to take part. The primary class
are to dance round a May-pole; and then there are to be garland-bearers
and maids of honor, so we'll all be something; but of course Susie will
have the highest honor."
Susie's happy look of a moment before was gone. That word _honor_ had
set her to thinking.
"What is the matter?" asked Sadie, mistaking the cause of her changed
expression. "Don't you want us to be in it?"
"Want you to be in it! Of course I do," cried Susie. "You must think me
a monster of selfishness. I only wish you could all be queens."
"We are satisfied to be your subjects," said Sadie, putting her arm
around Susie, as they all started by twos and threes for the school, as
the bell was ringing.
"I wish I'd never seen that verse," thought Susie, not heeding Sadie's
chatter, as they went up the walk. "It's just going to spoil the whole
thing."
"Here comes Florence Tracy," remarked Sadie, as a carriage stopped at
the foot of the walk, and a young girl alighted. "Do you know, Susie, I
don't believe she has a good time at all, if she does drive to school,
and live in the handsomest house in town. I fancy her uncle isn't very
kind to her, for she never seems very happy. Just look: don't you think
she has a sad face?"
"I don't know," answered Susie, anxious to change the subject. "Isn't
the parsing hard for to-day? Miss Page gives such long lessons."
But Sadie was far too interested in Squire Tracy's spirited horses, with
their gilded harness, to turn her thoughts to discussing the length or
difficulty of any lesson.
"Wouldn't I like to jump in!" she exclaimed. "It's just the morning for
a drive." Then, in a lower tone: "Strange that Florence never asks any
of the girls. There's room for four, yet every afternoon she goes for
hours all alone."
"Hush!" cautioned Susie; "she's right behind us."
Florence joined them with a good-morning, and the three went up the
steps together, Susie and Florence stopping a moment on the porch to
talk over a troublesome sentence in the parsing.
"I know she didn't hear you," said Susie, in answer to Sadie's anxious
question as she passed her seat, "for she is as pleasant as can be."
"Perhaps she _would_ invite us," said Sadie, striving to make amends for
her hasty speech, "if the Squire would let her. Poor girl! I really pity
her."
Susie took her seat, and glanced across to Florence's. "She _does_ look
sad," she was forced to acknowledge; "but then deep mourning makes
almost every one look so. Sadie is always getting up things to make one
uncomfortable;" and she tried to busy herself in arranging her desk, and
so forget the sad face opposite. "I'm sure she has everything money can
buy." Here Conscience asked, "But are you not really far richer, with a
loving father and mother, and a bright happy home?"
"Yes," thought Susie. "I wouldn't exchange places with her for all her
pretty things, though I did think yesterday I'd give anything for that
watch she wore. But then think of baby! How cunning she was this
morning!--worth more than all the watches in the world!" and Susie
almost felt the little arms about her neck.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
PINAFORE RHYMES.--(_Continued_.)
[Illustration]
I'm glad to see you all so gay
On little Trottie's third birthday;
She's happy as a little queen,
And wants her presents to be seen;
She's got a doll that laughs and cries,
Opens her mouth, and winks her eyes;
A silver bird with painted wings,
And lots of other pretty things.
And all of us are very gay,
Because we have a holiday.
[Illustration]
Our Johnny has a fishing-pole
That reaches up so high
That I'm afraid 'twill make a hole
Right through the clear blue sky.
It reaches up so very far,
If he'd come out at night,
And go a-fishing for a star,
He'd catch one, so he might.
[Illustration]
Through the sparkling, dewy grass
To the water's rim,
See my downy duckies run
For a merry swim.
Mother duck, as well as I,
Knows they can not drown,
And the water will not even
Wet the yellow down.
[Illustration]
They sat in the circus, all six in a row,
And thought that they never had seen such a show;
They laughed at the clowns and their comical tricks,
And all went home a-laughing, that party of six.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: OUR POST-OFFICE BOX]
We offer a few suggestions to our young exchangers, which we hope they
will read and remember. In the first place, be very careful to prepay
postage on letters and packages, otherwise they will be sent to the
Dead-letter Office. The correspondent to whom they are directed will be
notified, but he is not obliged to send for them unless he wishes to do
so. If he does not, you will blame him for not answering you, when the
fault is wholly your own. Many of our correspondents find this matter of
sending to the Dead-letter Office for unpaid packages very burdensome,
and we see no reason why they should do it. As it is through the
carelessness of the sender that the postage is not paid, the loss and
the trouble should fall on him.
When you send specimens of minerals, pressed flowers, or any other
natural curiosity, mark each distinctly, stating the name, if you know
it, and the locality where it was found.
Always be sure to give your full address, distinctly written; and do not
neglect to pay attention to the suggestion to note down the letters you
receive, which we gave you in the Post-office Box of No. 78.
If you have only a very few specimens to exchange--perhaps only one
arrow-head--we would advise you not to ask for an exchange through YOUNG
PEOPLE, for you will receive a large quantity of letters, and as you
have but one thing to dispose of, you will be in trouble, and very sadly
out of your spending money, which will all go for postage, because if
boys and girls send you things you have asked for, you must return them
unless you can send a fair equivalent.
This matter of postage you must also consider before you enroll your
name among our exchangers. A good many boys and girls have been
compelled to withdraw their names because their allowance of
pocket-money would not begin to cover the postage on the answers they
had to write.
What you can do is this: If you have one arrow-head, or a very few
stamps, or pressed flowers, which you wish to exchange, watch in the
Post-office Box until you find the name of some boy or girl who offers
just what you wish, for just what you have to give. Then you can write
to the correspondent and arrange a pleasant exchange without any
trouble, and without subjecting yourself to big postage bills, or to the
task of writing to scores of applicants that your stock is exhausted.
* * * * *
WAKEFIELD, MASSACHUSETTS.
The canoes we have built here after the directions given in YOUNG
PEOPLE for April 27, 1880, have, without exception, been successes.
They all weigh somewhere in the vicinity of fifty-five pounds, and
are exceedingly graceful in shape. Within three weeks after the
publication of the directions in YOUNG PEOPLE two canoes were in
preparation in our town, and in three months a fleet of seven
canoes was fully equipped and prepared. These canoes can be made
inside of seven dollars.
At first we obtained spruce, and laid our keelson, which any boy
can make in one afternoon with a good splitting saw. Of the ribs,
nine were of soft wood, and three of hard. For slats to stretch
over the frame-work, we used the strips of wood which come around
hay bales. These we soaked and planed. After fastening these to
the bow and stern, also to the ribs, and having made the
frame-work for the deck, we were ready for the canvas. This having
been carefully tacked to the keelson and gunwale, was oiled, and
then painted. Then, having finished the well, we fastened the keel
over the canvas along the keelson and the bow and stern, and added
another coat of paint.
While this was drying, the paddle was made, and then we were ready
for our trial trip. It was with fear and trembling that we
carefully lowered our canoes into the water, and then, with still
greater anxiety, stepped into them. Imagine our delight when,
instead of keeling over, as we had feared, our boats sat as evenly
and nicely as any we had ever seen. That day was a joyous one, and
I can tell you we didn't lose the opportunity of being on the lake
whenever we could. Two of us enjoyed a long trip, and a greater
number are planning one for this coming summer.
I think almost any boy, with the proper tools and plenty of care,
could make a canoe inside of a month. I hope this account of our
success will stimulate some to make the attempt.
S. A.
* * * * *
SOUTH ROYALTON, VERMONT.
I am a little boy of six years. I have no brother, and only one
sister. She is teaching lots of little girls and boys in Iowa. I
want to see her very much. I print letters to her, and she writes
to me, and sends me lots of pretty things.
I wish the children that write letters for the Post-office Box
would come and play with me. I am sorry for the sick ones, and for
the one whose brother perished in the snow last winter while he
was hunting in Canada.
I have good times making and eating maple sugar.
I have live sheep and two lambs of my own, and we have ten pretty
calves. I get the eggs every night, and I shut up the turkeys.
The school-house is very near, and when school commences I shall
have some boys to play with me. I am going to carry my YOUNG
PEOPLE to school, so as to let the scholars see it.
LEON D. L.
* * * * *
MOUNTAIN HOUSE, CALIFORNIA.
My home is a large public-house, and our nearest neighbor lives a
mile away. We have beautiful scenery here in the Sierra Nevada
Mountains, and now the snow has gone, the wild flowers are coming
up everywhere.
There are mines very near our house, and my grandpa has a
saw-mill.
We have a governess with us all the time. I am nine years old, and
I have a sister eleven, and a little brother. We have a
post-office and a telegraph office. I can telegraph some, and my
sister can send and receive messages.
Not only my sister and I read YOUNG PEOPLE, but also all the big
folks here, and they thought "Toby Tyler" was just splendid.
IDA C.
* * * * *
LAKEVILLE, NEW YORK.
I am the oldest of three boys. I have a little sister, who looks at
my YOUNG PEOPLE, and reads it in her baby way, and kisses all the
pretty pictures.
I live at the foot of Lake Conesus. It was named by the Indians,
and the word in their language means "beautiful waters." There are
three steamers and two sailing yachts on the lake.
My papa has moved to his farm this spring. He has just bought a
span of fine young horses, and if any of Harper's YOUNG PEOPLE
will come to see me, I will give them a ride.
HARRY F. W.
* * * * *
BLEAK HOUSE, ILLINOIS.
I am a little girl seven years old, and I want to write to YOUNG
PEOPLE.
It has been such a long winter! We think it is time for spring.
The snow-banks are thawing to-day (April 10), and this morning the
birds were singing, and a prairie-chicken went boo-o-o-o.
I live on a farm, and when my uncle William goes into the woods, I
go with him, and ride back on a load of wood, and I see squirrels,
and acorns, and moss, and hawks' nests in the tops of the trees.
I have a little sister in Scotland. She is eleven years old. She
writes me nice letters. She has seen London and the Queen's
palace. Santa Claus brought her a doll, and she has named it Grace
Anastasia.
DUDIE A. C.
* * * * *
NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA.
I like "Toby Tyler" and "Phil's Fairies" best of all the stories in
YOUNG PEOPLE.
I am twelve years old. My mamma died five weeks ago, and left me
with my sister and papa. I have been an invalid all my life until
now, when I can run as fast as any little girl.
The flowers are all in bloom (April 14), and everything is so
green and lovely!
LAURA B.
* * * * *
DOWNIEVILLE, CALIFORNIA.
We have had a warm, pleasant winter here. I found the first
buttercup on the 8th of January, and now (April 10) there are
quantities of buttercups and wild pansies, and a few days ago I
found two wild larkspurs. This time last year the snow was between
four and six feet deep.
I have a dear little kitten named Frisky, and she deserves her
name, for a more playful little thing I never saw. She loves to
play with a ball of yarn. Sometimes she will get angry with it and
kick it, then she will hug it, then she will bite and kick it
again. We have another kitten named Beauty. He is not so playful
as Frisky, but sometimes she will coax him to play, and if you
could only hear the noise they make when they chase each other
across the floor, you would think they were two little mules
instead of two little cats. I often call Beauty "Professor,"
because he is such a serious kitten. He will sit still and stare
at a thing so long, and he has such very big round eyes!
MARY A. R.
* * * * *
CHICAGO, ILLINOIS.