the bath-room door, so that I did not hear anybody come in. The first
thing I knew Sue snatched the baby away, and gave me such a box over the
ear. Then she screamed out, "Ma! come here this wicked boy is drowning
the baby O you little wretch won't you catch it for this." Mother came
running up stairs, and they carried the baby into mother's room to dry
it.
You should have heard what they said when Sue slipped and sat down in
the middle of the molasses, and cried out that her best dress was
ruined, and mother saw what a state the carpet was in! I wouldn't repeat
their language for worlds. It was personal, that's what it was, and I've
been told fifty times never to make personal remarks. I should not have
condescended to notice it if mother hadn't begun to cry; and of course I
went and said I was awfully sorry, and that I meant it all for the best,
and wouldn't have hurt the baby for anything, and begged her to forgive
me and not cry any more.
When father came home they told him all about it. I knew very well they
would, and I just lined myself with shingles so as to be good and ready.
But he only said, "My son, I have decided to try milder measures with
you. I think you are punished enough when you reflect that you have made
your mother cry."
That was all, and I tell you I'd rather a hundred times have had him
say, "My son, come up stairs with me." And now if you don't admit that
nothing could be meaner than the way that baby acted, I shall really be
surprised and shocked.
[Begun in HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE No. 66, February 1.]
PHIL'S FAIRIES.
BY MRS. W. J. HAYS,
AUTHOR OF "PRINCESS IDLEWAYS," ETC.
CHAPTER XIV.
PLANS FOR THE WINTER.
Summer had gone. Visitors had gone. Graham had gone to school. The banks
of the lake were red and yellow, brown and purple, with autumnal
foliage. Aunt Rachel was superintending the making of preserves. Lisa
was at work on the piazza. Phil was sketching.
Slowly up the garden path came old Joe. He took off his hat and stood
still a moment waiting for Phil to speak.
"Well, Joe, what is it?" said Phil, hardly looking up, he was so busy.
"This is just as fine as ever the garden of Eden was, but old Adam had
to go, you know, Massa Phil." He had lately, of his own accord, put the
Massa before Phil's name.
"What are you driving at, Joe?" asked Phil, absently.
"I mean I's a-gwine home, Massa Phil."
"To the city?" said Phil, surprised into attention.
"Yes, back to New York. I wants to go to work."
"Have you not enough to do here?"
"No," said Joe, with a chuckle. "It's all play here--no real hard work
sich as I's 'customed to."
"It is time you took it easy, Joe," said Phil.
"True nuff, but I's not one of the easy sort. Besides, who knows, Massa
Phil, but there may be other chillen--poor sick chillen--waitin' for to
hear my fiddle an' be comforted?"
Phil looked up hastily; a bright look of gratitude and love came into
his eyes.
Just then Miss Schuyler appeared, with a glass jar of jelly in her hand;
the maid was following with a tray full.
"Joe wants to go to the city, Aunt Rachel," said Phil.
"I dare say," was the ready response. "He wants a little gossip over the
kitchen fires, and he wants this nice jar of jelly for his bread and
butter when he has company to tea; and as we all are going home next
week, he may as well wait for the rest of us."
"Aunt Rachel!" said Phil, in dismay. Going home to the city seemed like
going back to poverty, and illness, and the garret room he so well
remembered.
Aunt Rachel divined it all. "You belong to me now, Phil. Lisa and I are
partners henceforth; and while you and I travel in search of health,
study, and improvement, Lisa is going to keep house for us in her own
nice quiet way."
"Travel!--where?--when?" said Phil, eagerly.
"The doctors suggest our going abroad--to a warm climate for the winter,
where we please; in summer, to the German baths."
"Oh, Aunt Rachel!"
This was enough for Phil to think of and wonder about all the rest of
the happy days at the lake. He could walk now with comparative ease, not
of course without crutches, and the gold and scarlet glory of the autumn
leaves was a perpetual delight to him. He gathered them for wreaths and
bouquets, he pressed them, and ironed them, and varnished them, and
tried every method suggested to him for keeping them; and when it came
packing time it was found necessary to get an extra trunk to contain all
the woodland treasures.
The happy summer had ended, and not without a lingering look of regret
that it could not last longer was the farewell said to house, and lake,
and every pretty graceful tree or plant that adorned them.
They found the city house all in nice order for them, for Aunt Rachel
was always wise in her forethought and provision for future comfort.
Phil's little room near her own had been especially attended to, and he
found it in all its arrangements as complete and satisfactory as the
lovely summer nook he had vacated.
In three weeks' time they were to start for Europe. The days were spent
in preparation. Phil must have a steamer chair, plenty of clothes,
wraps, and contrivances. All Aunt Rachel's thoughts were for Phil's
comfort; but it did not spoil him nor make him selfish; he had the happy
faculty of receiving kindness gracefully, as if glad to be the means of
making others happy by his gratitude, not as if it were his due in any
way. And in his turn he was thoughtful and considerate for others, in
trifles light as air, but nevertheless showing by the gentle, tender
manner that he meant them as evidences of his affection. He knew Lisa
dreaded parting from him, so before her he was quite silent as to his
expected pleasures, although his imagination was constantly picturing
the details of an ocean voyage. His sketch-book was getting full of
yachts and craft of all sorts and sizes--some that would have astonished
a sailor very much. Whenever he met Lisa he kissed her, whether with hat
on she was hurrying out on some errand for Miss Schuyler, or on her
return, with arms full of bundles, she was hastening through the hall.
He was necessarily left much alone, and thus had the chance to draw a
charming little picture for Lisa, and frame it with acorns, lichen, and
red maple leaves. He hung it in her room one day when she was out, and,
to his surprise, the next day it was missing. He had expected some
recognition of it, but none coming, he kept still, wondering what Lisa
had done with it. The secret came out in due time.
A day or two before their departure, Lisa came to him with tears in her
eyes, and a little package in her hand.
"Open it, dear; it is for you."
It was a tiny leather purse, with four dollars in it.
"Lisa, you must not give me all this."
"Yes, it is yours--your own earnings. I sold your little picture, and
bought this purse with part of the money, so that you might have
something to spend just as you pleased.".
"Oh, Lisa!" was all Phil could say, for though grateful, he was yet
disappointed that Lisa had not kept his picture.
"Now, dear," she said, "you can buy some little trifle for Joe, and any
one else you want to make a present to."
"Thank you, Lisa; yes, I will. It is a very nice purse," he replied; but
as soon as he could find Miss Schuyler, he unburdened his heart. "After
all the pains I took with that little picture, Aunt Rachel, to think of
Lisa's selling it! Oh, how could she?"
"Hush, dear Phil; Lisa is the most unselfish creature in the world. Has
she not given you up to me? And for the pleasure she supposed it would
give you to have money of your own earning, she was willing to part with
even a thing so precious as a picture painted by you for her. Do not
question her motive for a moment. Take the money, and buy her something
useful. Come, we will go get a pretty work-basket; she will find it even
more to her taste than a picture."
So they went out and bought a light, nicely shaped basket, with little
pockets all around it, and Aunt Rachel made it complete with a silver
thimble, a strawberry emery cushion, a morocco needle-book, and an ample
supply of silk, thread, needles, pins, and buttons.
Lisa was delighted; but Phil could not be satisfied until he had painted
another little picture, and made Lisa promise that no one else should
ever have it.
Joe was made happy with some new bandana handkerchiefs in brilliant
yellows and red, a pipe, some tobacco, and a suit of clothes from Miss
Schuyler.
* * * * *
[Illustration: ON BOARD THE STEAM-SHIP--GOOD-BY TO NEW YORK.]
It was a tranquil, lovely day in the fall when the steam-ship sailed
with Aunt Rachel and Phil on board. All the bay sparkled in the
sunshine, and boats of every shape and size danced upon the blue water.
After the bustle and confusion of getting off, the leave-takings, the
cries and shouts of sailors, the blowing of whistles and ringing of
bells, they sat quietly down to watch the receding shores, and look out
upon the glittering water.
"Aunt Rachel," said Phil, "it all seems like another fairy story to me,
and we are sailing in a nautilus to the island of Heart's Ease."
"Yes, dear child, so it does. And let us hope that we shall find that
beautiful island, and never wish to leave it."
THE END.
[Illustration: SPRING CLEANING.--DRAWN BY W. T. YEAGER.]
[Illustration: PATERMUS. "Come, Children, your Mother and I have decided
to emigrate. I overheard Mrs. Housekeeper say last night that she had
engaged Chinese help, and we have concluded that it is hardly safe for
us to stay any longer."]
[Illustration: OUR POST-OFFICE BOX]
In answer to repeated inquiries, we would again state that there is no
charge for printing exchanges or any other matter in the Post-office
Box. Whatever is suitable and interesting is printed if space can be
made for it. To make that space is a constant and never-ending problem,
the solution of which is that hundreds and hundreds of pretty letters
never appear at all. They lie week after week on the editor's table, and
their turn never comes, for the simple reason that five hundred lines
can not be crowded into a column that only holds half--a great deal less
than half--of that number.
The editor's heart aches every week over the heaps of letters from the
dear little folks who are doomed to disappointment. It is not one bit
pleasant to think that the bright little eyes will watch in vain for the
carefully written letter which was intended to "surprise mamma," or
"please grandpa, who gives me my paper," but there is no help for it.
There are so many of you that to let you all speak in print would keep
an army of printers busy day and night.
Perhaps if you could peep for a moment at the editor's Post-office
Department, you would be comforted to find yourselves in such a crowd of
other little folks. There is no big waste-basket, such as you all appear
to dread so much, but there are some very big pigeon-holes, and a great
many of them; and there you all are, packed snugly away, thousands and
thousands of you, talking of your pretty living pets, shedding quiet
tears over the "kitties that died," playing with your baby brother or
sister, "the dearest pet in the world," or offering unlimited sympathy
to Toby Tyler. Here are fifty or sixty boys every one of whom wishes
Toby Tyler would come and live with him, "and my mamma will be so good
to him, and always give him enough to eat!" There are plenty of homes
offered to Mr. Stubbs too, but the poor old monkey does not need them
now. We do not believe any monkey was ever honored by such a large
circle of mourners. His name has been bestowed upon great numbers of pet
dogs and cats, and it will be many years before he will be forgotten.
Now when you feel badly because you can not find your letter or even
your name in the Post-office Box, just remember that your pretty message
to YOUNG PEOPLE is not thrown away or neglected, but that it is all
safe, and in the company of a whole crowd of little companions from all
parts of the world.
* * * * *
PLEASANT GROVE, NEW JERSEY.
I am nine years old, and I enjoy reading YOUNG PEOPLE, as we all
do, even papa and mamma. When the paper comes, all make a rush for
it, to see how poor Toby Tyler is getting along. He attracts as
much attention among the big folks as with us children. Mamma says
his story teaches us all a good lesson.
All of us are obliged to stay from school now on account of
scarlet fever. I feel very sorry, for I love to go to school, and
I was trying very hard for a prize. I can not get it now. This is
my first attempt at writing a letter.
LAURA A. I.
* * * * *
INDIANAPOLIS, INDIANA.
I am seven years old, and I feel awful sorry for Toby Tyler. If
Uncle Daniel won't have Toby, he can come and live with us. My
mamma says so. Grandma says we can't have Mr. Stubbs; but she likes
to have a good time herself, and I know she will laugh at his
tricks when she gets used to him. Toby and Mr. Stubbs can sleep
with me, for I have no brother or sister. And Toby can have half of
my marbles, and play on my drum, and he shall have all he wants to
eat. Tell him to come, and not go back to the circus.
WILLIE F.
This cordial invitation was written before the sad end of Mr. Stubbs,
and the arrival of Toby at his home, and in their name we thank Master
Willie for his generous intentions.
* * * * *
The following information in reference to the meaning of the word
Toronto has been sent to the Post-office Box by a gentleman in Detroit
for the benefit of Henry M. R.:
Toronto is an Indian word (Iroquois, if I remember right),
signifying "oak-trees growing up or rising from the lake." This I
learned from one of my old school-books when a boy in Canada,
nearly fifty years ago.
J. R.
* * * * *
PALO ALTO PLANTATION, MISSISSIPPI.
We are little boys of the same age, ten years. We live on a cotton
plantation. There are no little boys near on the same side of the
river as we are. The farms are large, so we have to go a great
distance to see any one. There are two thousand acres in
cultivation, and there are miles and miles of woods all around. As
soon as we leave our yard we are in the woods. We can go hunting
for rabbits, or squirrels, or partridges. We have the largest
pecans growing here that I ever saw. They measure two inches round,
and are an inch and a half long. We have a plantation of magnolias,
walnut-trees, pears, figs, and pomegranates, besides peaches and
apples.
We each have a bay colt, which we must get up early in the morning
and groom. Our father says we are to know all about a farm. He
often sends us three or four miles alone to see how the log heaps
are burning, or how the corn or cotton is being planted. He makes
us row ourselves over the river in a little boat we have.
We have a governess who wants to make us very elegant, but we do
not like to brush our teeth and nails so often, and go to the
table in such prime order. But she reads YOUNG PEOPLE to us, and
we would do almost anything to hear the paper read better than we
can read it for ourselves.
If any little boy would like to know more about this country, we
will write again to YOUNG PEOPLE, and tell all we know.
RICHARD AND KENNON T.
* * * * *
OWENSBOROUGH, KENTUCKY.
I want to tell you how I get YOUNG PEOPLE. Our teacher takes it for
the school, and all that stand perfect in the lessons draw for it.
This is jolly. I think it is the best paper in the world.
I live near the great Mammoth Cave, one of the largest caves in
the world, and also near the Green River, which is one of the
deepest rivers.
I went the other day to see _Uncle Tom's Cabin_ played, and
thought it was splendid.
RUTH G.
* * * * *
BARDOLPH, ILLINOIS.
I am a very little girl. I like YOUNG PEOPLE very much. I think
Jimmy Brown is a very funny boy. My little nephew, named Horace, is
so much like him! My sister has to tie him to the bed-post when she
goes out-of-doors. Once he broke loose, and when she came back she
found him working over her bread, which she had left by the stove
to rise. He is only nineteen months old, and sister thinks he will
grow up just like Jimmy Brown. I am saving all my YOUNG PEOPLE for
him to read when he gets big.
LIZZIE P.
* * * * *
GRANDY, CONNECTICUT.
I send the inscription on the inside of the cover of a snuff-box
that we have, as I thought the other children might like to read it
Here it is:
"Respect me for what I have been. From a sprightly plant I was
advanced to the sovereignty of the forest; the birds of the air
were happy under my shadow, and afforded me their sweetest notes
for my protection. After filling a respectable situation, and
living to a good old age, I was cut down, stripped of nature's
robes, and became a pillar in the church, where I screened alike
the sinner and the saint from the stormy blast; and after a
faithful servitude of seven hundred and one years, I have become
in every convivial circle a ready token of friendship--part of my
remains make a snuff-box; and except when carried away by wicked
hands, regularly attend the sanctuary. One thousand eight hundred
and twenty-four."
On the outside of the cover is the picture of a church, with the
inscription, "Glasgow Cathedral. Founded 1123."
WILLIAM S.
* * * * *
PORT HURON, MICHIGAN.
I am six years old, and mamma is going to write just every word I
say to YOUNG PEOPLE. We have "tooken" it ever since it began.
Georgie likes "Biddy O'Dolan" and "Toby Tyler" the best. I do like
"Phil's Fairies," because he is a poor little sick boy.
I have a little sister Prill. She is 'most three years old. She
tries to say, "Twinkle, twinkle, little star," and runs to the
window, and tries to see the stars. We love her a thousand million
dollars.
I have two dollies. Winnie was a year old when I was six, and
Mabel came that day. I named Winnie my own self for the dollie in
"Trouble in the Play-Room," in YOUNG PEOPLE, and Mabel after
"rosy-cheeked Mabel" in "Wingy Wing Foo," which I can recite.
Georgie and I went with papa to grandpa's when he was sixty years
old. We had to go a hundred miles. At the depĂ´t a man asked me
where I was going, and I said, "To grandpa's birthday party; he is
sixty years old this afternoon," and all the people laughed.
We live on the St. Clair River, and can see all the boats that go
to Lake Superior and Chicago. The Indians live across the river.
We can see their log-houses. They come across in boats, and sell
baskets. Sometimes their papooses are tied on their backs. I can
write my own name.
ETHEL A. V.
I am four years old. Ethel is my sister.
We had a bran pudding Christmas morning, after we had our oatmeal.
We liked it.
Bill and Kit are my horses. They are wooden.
GEORGE B. V.
* * * * *
ROCKAWAY, NEW JERSEY.
I hope the little boys and girls who read this letter will not
laugh when I tell them I am going to write about cats. My dear old
Sheppie dog was poisoned, so I can't write about him, and our
kittie is not just a common kind of a cat, for she has seven toes
on each of her fore-paws, and she can catch more rats and mice than
any other three cats I ever saw. She came in the other day with an
awfully big rat, and when I went to pat her a little, the rat bit
me. She is striped just like a tiger.
Mamma told us such a funny story about a kittie she had when she
was a little girl. One day she went up an apple-tree near the
house after some dear little birds. Mamma ran after her, but was
too late to save even one little bird. She was so provoked with
her kittie that she ran up stairs, and tore a big piece out of a
dress, and made a bag. Then she put poor kittie in it, with a big
stone for a pillow, and ran as fast as she could to a big pond
over past the corn field, and threw poor kittie in. When mamma got
back to the house, the first thing she saw was that same little
kittie sitting beside the door, washing herself off, and looking
so sorry and pitiful that mamma took her in her arms, and dried
her with her apron. Then she carried her into the house, and put
her in the oven to get warm. She thought she would not let grandpa
and grandma know about it, for fear they would laugh at her, but
the colored driver was there, and saw it all, and he told them
when they came home. They laugh at mamma about it yet.
I think YOUNG PEOPLE is just the nicest, jolliest paper in all the
world.
We are making up a boxful of things to send to the poor little
boys and girls at the Howard Mission, in New York.
FRANK J. T.
* * * * *
GOLDEN, COLORADO.
I live in the far West. It is a very nice place. Our schools are
just splendid. They are graded, and we have the best of teachers.
Sometimes the Ute Indians come here. They are awful dirty and
lazy, and very mean. They steal and beg all the time, and we are
glad to see them go away. Once in a while we have a visit from
gypsies. I am twelve years old.
TILLIE K.
* * * * *
PITTSBURGH, PENNSYLVANIA.
I must tell you about a funny mistake I made the other day at the
breakfast table. I was talking about Toby Tyler calling his monkey
Mr. Stubbs because he looked like a man he knew by that name, and I
said I did not think the man would feel very much _complicated_.
Papa and mamma and my two big brothers all laughed very much. At
first I did not know why, and was feeling very uncomfortable, when
mamma explained to me that I should have said _complimented_, and
told me the difference in the meaning of the words. Then I laughed
as much as any of them. I am eight years old.
JACK M.
* * * * *
I wish to inform my correspondents that I have received so many
applications for my minerals and other curiosities that they are
all gone. I will try to get some more, but I will now exchange
stamps with those correspondents who are not willing to wait. I
would like some South American postage stamps (no duplicates).
W. A. COURTRIGHT,
P. O. Box 151, Palmyra, Marion Co., Mo.
* * * * *
MARSHALL, MICHIGAN.
* * * * *
My supply of stamps is exhausted, and I can not exchange any more.
I will return the stamps I have received for which I can give no
exchange.
JESSIE R. BENTLEY.
* * * * *
I do not wish any more exchanges of soil. I will now exchange
Florida moss, for postage stamps.
HARRY LAURIMORE,
Lock Box 6, Greenville, Darke Co., Ohio.
* * * * *
Johnny P. Crozier, of Carlyle, Kansas, who offered exchange in YOUNG
PEOPLE No. 75, is in trouble. He has no more Indian arrow-heads nor
rattlesnake rattles, and packages of curiosities are still reaching him
by every mail. He begs correspondents to send him nothing more, for he
will be compelled to return all these things, or wait until a new crop
of rattlesnakes comes in.
It would always be well if those wishing to exchange would write before
sending a package, in order to find out if the exchange can be made.
* * * * *
The following exchanges are offered by correspondents:
Minerals and stamps, for Indian arrow-heads, stamps, or minerals.
JAMES S. BEAUMONT,
P. O. Box F, Penn Yan, Yates Co., N. Y.
* * * * *
Prince Edward Island stamps and some others of foreign countries,
for rare stamps. Mexican especially desired.
THOMAS BARR,
Care of Rev. George Hodgson,
Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island.
* * * * *
Two German, one French, and one English stamp, for four other
foreign stamps.
EDITH B. BELKNAP,
Care of E. Belknap, Yonkers, N. Y.
* * * * *
Foreign stamps, for curiosities.
BERTHA A. BRUMAGIM, Summerdale, N. Y.
* * * * *
One twenty-five cent internal revenue stamp, for a Chinese stamp.
CLARENCE D. CHIPMAN,
Kankakee, Kankakee Co., Ill.
* * * * *
Postage and revenue stamps and postmarks. Postmarks from the
Eastern States especially desired.
J. C., P. O. Box 3, Aurora, Kane Co., Ill.
* * * * *
East Indian, Japanese, French, Canadian, German, and United States
stamps, for other foreign and United States stamps. Those from
Central and South America especially desired.
ARTHUR COLEMAN,
11 Wendell Street, Cambridge, Mass.
* * * * *
Rare foreign stamps, for stamps from Turkey, Egypt, Straits
Settlements, or for other stamps of value.
R. K. FORSYTH,
224 Ridge Avenue, Alleghany City, Penn.
* * * * *
Stamps and postmarks, for stamps or any curiosity, except minerals
and postmarks.
JOHN FAGLON,
25 Columbia Street, Brooklyn, N. Y.
* * * * *
Postmarks, for good specimens of insects, especially a death's-head
moth.
W. C. FOSTER,
375 Quincy Street, Brooklyn, N. Y.
* * * * *
Copper or iron ore, for curiosities.
AMELIA FRINK, Marshall, Calhoun Co., Mich.
* * * * *
Thirty-five postmarks (no duplicates), for a cent of any date
earlier than 1840. Or forty postmarks for a half-cent of any date
earlier than 1857.
ROLAND GODFREY,
Center P. O., Gardner, Worcester Co., Mass.
* * * * *
One hundred foreign stamps (no duplicates), for an Indian bow and
arrow; or seventy-five foreign stamps (no duplicates), for a
tomahawk or pipe. Will also exchange foreign stamps on most liberal
terms for Indian or other good curiosities.
Correspondents will please write and state what they have for
exchange before sending.
FRED P. HALL,
238 Warren Street, Jersey City, N. J.
* * * * *
Foreign postage stamps.