with a lovely garden, which contained mango, guava, banana,
custard-apple, and many other trees. Among them was what was called the
moon-tree; it was covered with great white bell-like flowers, and was
very beautiful. There were a great many gorgeous flowers and curious
plants that we do not have in this country. The garden was surrounded by
a wall eight feet high, and there were some fish-geraniums which reached
above the top of it. There was a little arch covered with the
night-blooming cereus, and that evening, when the buds had opened, we
went out to see them in the moonlight. They were beautiful white
blossoms, as large as your head, and had a faint perfume.
Next day we took a hammock ride about the town and surrounding country.
Each hammock was fitted out with a mattress, pillows, and canopy, and
slung on a long pole carried by two men. We reclined lazily against the
pillows, and enjoyed the ride very much. The men, when they went up
hill, carried us feet downward, but once they forgot, and carried us
feet upward, and as the hill was very steep, we felt as if we were
standing on our heads.
The houses of Funchal are low; and covered with white stucco, which
looks very neat, but those of the poor have only one window without any
glass, and are very dark and dismal inside. The streets are narrow, and
some of them very steep. We often passed gardens surrounded by high
walls, over which hung lovely flowering vines. Out in the country there
were lantanas, geraniums, and fuchsias which seemed to be growing wild,
and great cactus plants everywhere.
PENCIL DRAWING.--No. 1.
This beautiful and graceful art may be acquired by every girl and boy in
the land who will take the necessary steps. And they are pleasant steps.
A pretty drawing-book, a nicely cut No. 2 Faber's drawing pencil, a
piece of _black_ India rubber, some pieces of tissue-paper to cover the
drawings, unless the drawing-book is furnished with tissue-paper. These
are the implements required. In this pencil drawing which I now
recommend there are no lines, straight and slanting, repeated to utter
weariness. This is _object_ drawing, and drawing from _nature_ also, and
the _objects_ are inexhaustible, being the _leaves_ which nature gives
to every plant and tree.
Drawings of leaves are beautiful when well done. The writer knew a young
girl of twelve or thirteen years who began with drawing simple, easy
leaves, and went on to more difficult ones season after season. Her
drawing-books were charming; and not this alone, for she acquired a fund
of pleasant knowledge, which loses none of its delight as time goes on.
She began with leaves, picked from the house plants which her mother
cultivated.
As the spring came on, she sought the _wild_ leaves in the woods. No one
who has not tried it can judge of the interest felt in the beauty and
wonderful variety in the growth and shapes of leaves. They seem endless;
and when to these are added the leaves of forest trees, the enchanting
maples, beeches, birches, and hosts of others, it may be imagined that
young fingers may find ample employment in portraying these, to say
nothing of the wild flowers which come on in the New England woods--the
early anemones, hepatica, bloodroot, and all the flowery train--as the
season advances.
This young girl learned to draw with great accuracy, and to this day
(for it is years since she began) her ready pencil can sketch any object
with ease and skill, the beginning of which was the effort to draw a
leaf of smilax.
I have a few simple outlines of leaves ready, but will reserve them for
another time.
[Begun in No. 17 of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, February 24.]
BIDDY O'DOLAN.
BY MRS. ZADEL B. GUSTAFSON.
CHAPTER III.
Any one who had seen Biddy O'Dolan in the old hard days, when she was
dirty and ragged and wretched and rude, and lived in the street, and
slept in a cellar, would hardly have known her if he had seen her three
weeks after she came to live with the Kennedys.
Biddy was not pretty, but she had a clear skin--now the dirt was washed
off--and bright, earnest eyes. Now, too, she wore neat and pretty
clothing. Her dark curly hair was nicely brushed, and tied with fresh
ribbons. She had a small, pleasant room all for herself and her doll,
and Miss Kennedy had taught her how to keep it in order.
Biddy had given a great deal of trouble to this gentle lady at first,
because Biddy had many unpleasant habits. She used bad words; she did
not seem to think it any harm to tell lies; she was not at all neat; she
was sometimes willful and disobedient; she was often careless, broke
dishes, tore her clothes, and put things out of order. These things were
a much greater trouble to Miss Kennedy than Biddy knew. Miss Kennedy was
so good and kind and true that Biddy's faults grieved her much, and
carelessness and disorder were like pain to her, she was herself so neat
and pure, like a fine white pearl.
But Miss Kennedy never forgot what poor Biddy's life had been, and Biddy
was so affectionate and grateful, and tried so hard, that Miss Kennedy
grew to love her dearly, and little by little Biddy conquered her old
bad habits.
She did not see much of Mr. Kennedy, who was very busy, and was away a
great deal. When she did see him, he had always a kind word and a
pleasant smile for her, which made Biddy feel as if he took care of her.
Charley had brought her the doll, as Biddy said he would. But she could
not make him come within a block of the house; and when he saw Biddy so
fresh and clean in her pretty new garments, he had blushed and run away
almost without speaking. She did not see much of him. She met him
sometimes when she was out on an errand. The last time she had seen him
he had looked very much pleased, but she had not been able to get him to
speak to her. She thought him more bashful than ever.
Biddy did not forget Charley, or cease to wish he might have a nice home
in the same house with her; but she was kept so busy with her easy but
constant duties in waiting upon Miss Kennedy, who was also teaching her
to read, that time flew very fast with Biddy, and it was midsummer when
one day she went out on an errand, and--did not come back!
Miss Kennedy waited and wondered; and when it began to grow dark, and
Biddy had not come back, she grew really alarmed. One of the servants
had been sent out twice to look for Biddy, but in vain. At last, just as
Miss Kennedy was about to send for him, Mr. Kennedy came in. As soon as
he learned the cause of his sister's alarm, he comforted her in the very
best way by starting out to search for Biddy himself.
He had not gone more than twenty steps before a boy, who had watched him
come out, stopped him, and to his great surprise gave him a message from
Biddy.
Mr. Kennedy ran back and spoke with his sister, and then went quickly
away with the boy who had brought Biddy's message.
Now this is what had happened.
After Biddy had done her errand, she thought about Charley, and felt a
great wish to see him. She was prettily dressed, and it came into her
head that it would be a grand thing if she could walk by Mrs. Brown's
stand, and see if the old woman would know her. For a long time after
she ran away from Mrs. Brown, Biddy had been afraid to go near her old
home for fear Mrs. Brown might claim her, and perhaps in some way be
able to hide her from her new friends. But she had lost most of this
fear, and now thought it would be great fun to step up to the stand and
buy something, and see what the old woman would say.
The old days when she and Charley used to be so much together came into
Biddy's mind as she walked along, swinging her parasol. She remembered a
great many little things about him and his quiet kindnesses to her,
which she had hardly noticed at the time, and she thought with new
pleasure of Mr. Kennedy's words to her in the morning. He had passed her
in the hall as he was going out, and had laid his hand on her head and
said: "I think I shall be able to do something for Charley very soon.
Will you like that, Biddy?" And Biddy, as usual, when her heart was very
full, had not said a word. "I'll tell Charley," she thought to herself.
At last when there was only one more block to walk before reaching Mrs.
Brown's stall, and Biddy was just beginning to think about what she
should say to the old woman, she noticed an unusual stir down the
street. People old and young were darting about, running around and
forward, yelling at the tops of their voices; and there was another low
hoarse sound Biddy could not make out. Nearest were some children
running in her direction and screaming. Biddy stopped near a pile of
empty boxes. She was full of wonder and fear. One of the children was
Charley. He saw Biddy at the same moment she saw him, and it seemed as
if he flew, he came toward her so fast. As he came up with her he
grasped her arms, turned her around, and pushed her toward the boxes
with one quick movement.
"Up wid 'ee, Biddy! Quick--oh, quick!" he called to her.
His white face and his piercing cry made Biddy obey him without a
thought of asking why. She clutched at the boxes, and scrambled up, and
Charley helped her by his hands and his shoulders. The boxes did not
stand even, and they tottered as she climbed, but Charley leaned his
little body against them, and stretched out his arms, and held them
steady. Biddy was not a moment too quick. As she threw herself forward
across the topmost box, the shuffle and clatter of many feet and the
shouting and screaming seemed to be all around them. Biddy could not
look down. She was so frightened, and had climbed so fast, she could
hardly breathe, but she heard a snapping and crunching of jaws and a
hoarse rattling breath beneath her. She was not able to think; she only
clung with all her might, so dizzy that it seemed as if she and the
boxes were swimming. Several shots were fired, and it seemed as if there
were more noise and confusion than before. Then some one said,
"Poor children!"
Biddy felt herself lifted down. She was shaking all over. There were a
great many people around her, but they didn't make so much noise now.
She heard some one saying,
"It's Griffith's blood-hound--a good dog enough, too, if those idle
scamps had let him alone. But it wouldn't stand no nonsense--that sort
of dog never does. By heavens! it snapped that great chain like a pipe
stem, and was after them like a tiger in no time!"
Then another voice said: "Did you see the little boy? He's almost the
smallest little fellow you ever saw. But he was a hero. He saved the
little girl's life; he gave up his own for it. I saw and heard the whole
thing from the window overhead here, and I'll never see a braver deed
done. I tell you, he's a hero; his father can be proud of him."
"_His_ father!" said another and rougher voice. "_That_ boy hain't got
anyone belongin' to _him_. Take a look at his clothes--what's left of
'em from that brute's teeth! _He's_ never had too much to eat nor too
much to wear, you kin just bet yer life on that. But you're right,
mister; he _was_ a hero, an' no' mistake. He held as still as a mouse,
an' with a grip like death, while that durned critter chawed up his
legs."
Biddy was beginning to understand; so were the other children, the
little boys and girls who had known and laughed at and nicknamed Charley
all his silent, bashful life.
They stood around, gazing horror-struck at the dead hound that lay just
beyond the curb-stone, and at Charley, lying all mangled and perfectly
still in the arms of a policeman. A cart with cushions in it backed up
to the curb, and just as the policeman was trying to move Charley so as
to lay him on the cushions, he moaned and opened his eyes. He looked at
the children. They saw this look, and crowded up to the cart, sobbing.
One of them exclaimed, "Oh, Charley, we'll never call ye 'Polly' no
more!"
Another boy leaned close over Charley, and said, "The men sez as ye're a
real hero, Charley; jist ye brace up!"
[Illustration: CHARLEY IN THE HOSPITAL.]
A faint smile passed over Charley's face. He turned his eyes, with the
same kind, calm look in them, among the people, till he saw Biddy. Then
the tired eyes flashed with joy. He saw that she was quite safe. He
moved his hand a little toward her. Her lips quivered; she reached out
her arms; and they placed her in the cart on the cushions by Charley's
side. Just before it started, Biddy asked the little boy who had last
spoken to Charley to go and tell Mr. Kennedy what had happened, and to
say that she should stay with Charley till he got well. When Mr. Kennedy
reached the hospital, Biddy was crying as if her heart would break, and
poor, brave, tender, bashful little Charley had got quite well, and had
gone home to be with his Father.
The shock and the sorrow of little Charley's death changed Biddy very
much. It was long before Mr. and Miss Kennedy could persuade her that
she was not to blame for it. It seemed to the poor child as if she had
been cruel to climb into safety, leaving Charley to such a fate. But she
had really not been at all to blame. She had obeyed Charley's startling
and earnest cry, without thinking, or even having time to think, until
it was too late to act in any other way.
After a time the sharpness of this sorrow passed away, and the thought
of Charley became full of comfort and help to Biddy. As she grew older
she could understand that if Charley had lived, he could not have been
very happy, he was so feeble, and shrank from people so much. And she
could feel, if she did not understand, that his death was a noble one,
an act of love so simple and so whole that it was a gift, the gift of a
great example, helping every one who knew of it to be more brave and
true.
Biddy lived on with the Kennedys, and she has helped Mr. Kennedy from
time to time to find out little children as wretched as she once was. In
this way she has already been the means of getting six poor children
into good homes, where they have a chance to learn how to live. She
remembers so well her sad childhood that she understands, even better
than you or I would, how to speak to and help these poor children when
they first begin to do better, and get so discouraged because their old
bad habits pull them down, and make it hard for them to do well. Biddy
goes to see them, and talks with them so kindly, and with so much
patience and love, that they are comforted and ready to try harder than
ever. When she tells them that she was once just as dirty and rough and
naughty as they have ever been, and they see how sweet and good she has
become, it fills them with courage and hope. You can very well suppose
that Biddy did not always find it an easy thing to help these children.
Perhaps you think that any little girl would jump at the chance of being
taken from the street and put in a good and pleasant home. Biddy thought
so, until she tried to help Katy Kegan. She was the second little girl
Biddy found for Mr. Kennedy. Biddy had known Katy Kegan all her life,
and liked her better than any other little girl when they used to be
living on the street. Yet when Biddy became better off, and tried to
make things just as nice for Katy, that little girl didn't see it as
Biddy did at all, and gave her more care and worry than all the other
five. I'll tell you something about this.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
I AM THE LAD IN THE BLUE AND WHITE.
BY MARY A. BARR.
[Illustration]
I am the lad in the blue and white--
Sing hey! the merry sailor boy.
My head is steady, my eyes are bright,
My hand is ready, my step is light,
My brave little heart, all right, all right--
Sing ho! the merry sailor boy.
I am the lad in the blue and white--
Sing hey! the merry sailor boy.
I sit in the shrouds when the soft winds blow,
The light waves rock me to and fro;
I run up aloft or down below--
Sing ho! the ready sailor boy.
I am the lad in the blue and white--
Sing ho! the merry sailor boy.
When the skies are blue and the sea is calm,
The air is full of spice and balm,
And the shore is set with shadowy palm,
Oh, glad is the merry sailor boy!
"What will you do when the great winds blow?
What will you do, my sailor boy?"--
When great winds blow, and are icy cold,
Never you fear, for my heart is bold:
I'll watch my captain, do what I'm told--
Sing ho! the ready sailor boy.
"If a foe should come--in such a plight,
What would you do, brave sailor boy?"--
Run up the "Stars and Stripes" in his sight,
Stand by my captain, wrong or right,
And give the foe an up-and-down fight--
Sing ho! the gallant sailor boy.
I am the lad in the blue and white--
Sing hey! the merry sailor boy.
I carry my country's flag and name;
I never will do her wrong or shame;
I'll fight her battles and share her fame--
Sing ho! the gallant sailor boy.
[Illustration: Music]
[Illustration: OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.]
EVERETT STATION, GEORGIA.
I want to tell you about a pet squirrel I had. My uncle was having
some trees cut down, when the men found three young squirrels in
one of them. One of the squirrels got killed, and one ran away, but
my uncle caught the other and put it in his pocket, and forgot all
about it. After a while he put his hand in his pocket for
something, and the squirrel bit him. We tamed it, and it would run
all over the trees in the yard, until one day some boys passing by
shot it, thinking it was wild. My little brother cried, and I came
near crying too. We buried it in the flower garden.
CHESLY B. HOWARD, JUN.
* * * * *
_February. 15, 1880_.
I am nine years old. I was born in Boston, but for the last three
years I have been living on a farm in Lakeville, Massachusetts.
There are a number of lakes near here, and some of them have long
Indian names, such as Assawampsett and Quiticus. Yesterday was a
warm, spring-like day, and I saw two robins, and I heard the
bluebirds singing.
LOUIS W. CLARK.
* * * * *
MACHIAS, MAINE.
I like YOUNG PEOPLE very much. I have a summer-house, and
in the summer I found a little humming-bird, with its wing broken,
all tangled up in the flowers. I took it into the house, and fed
it. It ate sugar and water. It had a funny little narrow tongue,
and it put it out when it ate. It lived in the house two days, and
then it died.
NELLIE LONGFELLOW (8 years old).
* * * * *
SACRAMENTO, CALIFORNIA.
My papa told me of a pretty way to designate the long months from
the short ones. He learned it from a little girl when he was
travelling in Oregon, and I think a good many little readers of
YOUNG PEOPLE might be pleased with it. This is the way:
close your hand, and point out the knuckle of the forefinger for
January, and the depression between that and the middle knuckle for
February. The middle knuckle designates March, and the next
depression April; and so on to the small knuckle, which stands for
July. Then go back to the forefinger for August, and proceed as
before until all the months are named. It will be found that all
the short ones fall between the fingers, while the knuckles stand
for the long ones.
PHEBE C. BROWN.
* * * * *
PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA.
I want to tell you about a young alligator and a water turtle papa
had. He kept the turtle in the cellar, and the alligator in an
earthen tank; but when it came winter he put that in the cellar
too, in a tight box with air-holes. Some time afterward he went to
look at the turtle and the alligator, and they had both
disappeared. Where do you think they could have gone?
PUSS.
* * * * *
DIXON SPRING, TENNESSEE, _February 18_.
I am a subscriber to YOUNG PEOPLE, and I like it very much.
I am ten years old. The creeks are in the way, so I can not go to
school now, but I will go in the spring. Some of our flowers are in
full bloom, and the weather is very pleasant. But we had a
snow-storm last week, and I enjoyed it so much!
FANNIE M. YOUNG.
* * * * *
PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA.
I know some little girls who live in the country. They set a little
table in the yard, and put on it tin dishes with chicken food in
them. Then they ring a toy bell, and the chickens have learned to
come and stand round the table and eat. If a chicken hops on the
table, it is not allowed to eat any more, and in this way they are
taught to behave very nicely.
SADIE.
* * * * *
DECORAH, IOWA.
I am a little Norwegian girl, though I was born in America. I am
twelve years old. Not all the Norwegian ships in which Leif
Ericsson and his company sailed to America were as small as the one
described in "Ships Past and Present," in YOUNG PEOPLE No.
14, for one of them had sixty men and five women on board. Some of
the ancient Norwegian ships were quite large. I have read in
_Traditions of Norwegian Kings_, by Snorro Sturrleson, about
_Ormen Lange_ (the Long Serpent), a large and handsome ship
which belonged to King Olaf Tryggveson. That part of the keel which
touched the ground when the ship was being built measured 112 feet.
The ship carried a crew of more than 600 men. It was Leif Ericsson,
not Olaf Ericsson, who sailed to America.
E.
Tryggveson, who reigned in Norway A.D. 995-1000, had ships which
were the wonder of the North. His largest war ship was the _Long
Serpent_, supposed to be of the size of a frigate of forty-five guns. In
a great sea-fight with the Kings of Denmark and Sweden, King Olaf
Tryggveson was conquered, and is said to have sprung overboard from the
famous _Long Serpent_ into a watery grave.
* * * * *
DANVILLE, ILLINOIS.
Here is a recipe that some little girl may like to try. Two
table-spoonfuls sugar; one table-spoonful butter; one
table-spoonful milk; one well-beaten egg; four atoms of cream of
tartar; two atoms of soda; flour enough to make a batter. You must
get cook or mamma to measure the atoms. This recipe will make four
little patty-pans of cake, and there will be some batter left to
thicken for cookies. I cut out the cookies with mamma's thimble.
PUSS HUNTER.
* * * * *
WASHINGTON, D. C.
In our parlor there is a little mouse that has a hole in one corner
of the fire-place. Before I fed it it was quite tame, and would run
all about the room. I feed it now, and it only comes to get the
crumbs I put close by its hole. Can any one among your
correspondents tell me how to tame it?
E. L. M.
* * * * *
EAST HAVEN, CONNECTICUT.
I have a rabbit, kitten, parrot, dog, canary, and a pair of
chickens. I had a crow, but it died. I have a burying-ground for my
pets, and in it there is the poor crow, a dog, two bantams, and
seven canaries.
SUSIE D. B.
* * * * *
BUFFALO, NEW YORK.
I want to tell you about my dog Joe. He is a setter. He does a
great many capers. He watches for the boy who brings the evening
paper, and takes it, and brings it up stairs to us. He plays
hide-and-seek with me, and sometimes I tie a rope to his collar,
and he draws me on my skates. How fast we do go! One day I hitched
him to a sled for the first time, and he did not know what to make
of it. He ran a little way, and then tipped me into a snow-bank,
and made for home.
A. O. THAYER.
* * * * *
BARTON, MARYLAND.
I had a pair of pet rabbits which I prized very much. Papa built a
hutch for them, and they enjoyed their home very much. I fed them
with clover, cabbage, and apples. Sometimes I gave them a dish of
sweet milk to drink. They were growing so nice; but we had an old
cat which I suppose thought if the rabbits were out of the way, she
would get all the milk herself. One morning I fed them, and forgot
to give Spiney her milk. (That was the old cat's name.) So she went
down to the hutch and watched them drink their milk. When they had
finished, they popped their little heads out between the bars. Old
Spiney sprang on them, and that was the last of my poor rabbits.
MAGGIE BERMINGHAM (10 years).
* * * * *
Bertha A. F. saw the bluebirds at Sag Harbor, Long Island, on the day
before St. Valentine's, and on February 20 she picked willow "pussies."
O. T. Mason says he found the "pussies" in Medway, Massachusetts, as
early as January 18, but he neglected to report them.
* * * * *
LEON M. F.--If you dampen the skin under the feathers with
water, and sprinkle on it a little finely pulverized sulphur, your
pigeons will probably be relieved.
* * * * *