A CELEBRATION
The first of August was a perfect day for their celebration.
They had concluded to hold a Sand Court session first, for the simple
reason that so much matter for _The Jolly Sandboy_ had arrived from
Kitty that King said his paper was full, and he thought it would be nice
to help along the celebration.
Cousin Jack declined an invitation to be present at the reading, saying
that the Pocahontas part was all he could stand, so the Court convened
without him. Ruth was Queen for the day. This was for no particular
reason, except that Marjorie thought it would be a pleasure to the
little new member, so she insisted on Ruth's wearing the crown.
Very dainty and sweet the little Queen looked, with her long flaxen
curls hanging down from the extra gorgeous gilt-paper crown, that
Marjorie had made specially for this occasion.
As the session began, a meek little figure appeared at the Court
entrance, and there was Hester!
"Now, you Hester!" began Tom Craig, but Hester said:
"Oh, please let me come! I _will_ be good. I won't say a single cross
word, or boss, or anything."
"All right, Hester," said Midget, kindly, "come on in. If the Queen says
you may we'll all say so. Do you, O Queen?"
Ruth looked doubtful for a minute, for she was a little afraid of
Hester's uncertain temper; but, seeing Marjorie's pleading look, she
consented.
"All right," she said; "if Hester won't throw water on me."
"No, I won't!" declared Hester, earnestly.
"Well," said King, "just as long as Hester behaves herself she may stay.
If she carries on like fury, she's got to go home."
Hester sat down and folded her hands in her lap, looking so excessively
meek that they all had to laugh at her.
"Now," said the Queen, "we're gathered here together, my loyal subjects,
to listen to,--to, what do you call it?"
"_The Jolly Sandboy_," prompted King.
"_The Jolly Sandbag_," said the Queen, misunderstanding.
But she was soon put right, and King proceeded to read his paper.
"It's 'most all done by Uncle Steve and Kitty," he said, "and it's so
nice, I thought you'd all like to hear it."
"We would," they said, and so King began.
"Uncle Steve's part is all about animals," he said. "It's a sort of
Natural History, I guess. First is a poem about the Camel.
"The camel is a curious beast;
He roams about all through the East.
He swiftly scours the desert plain,
And then he scours it back again.
"The camel's legs are very slim,
And he lets people ride on him.
Across the sandy waste he flies,
And kicks the waste in people's eyes.
"He kneels for people to get on,
Then pulls his legs up, one by one;
But here's what troubles them the worst--
To know which leg he'll pull up first.
"Sometimes, when he is feeling gay,
The camel likes to run away;
And, as he's just indulged that whim,
I can't write any more of him."
"I think that's lovely," said the Queen, enthusiastically. "Your uncle
is a real poet, isn't he?"
"Our family all can write poetry," said Marjorie, seriously. "Father and
Mother both write beautiful verses."
"Now, here's the next one," went on King. "This is about all sorts of
different animals,--and it's funny, too:
"The whale is smooth, and black as jet
His disposition sweet;
He neatly combs his hair, and yet
He will not wipe his feet.
"The wombat's clever and polite,
And kind as he can be;
And yet he doesn't bow quite right
When he goes out to tea.
"The snake is bright and understands
Whatever he is taught;
And yet he never will shake hands
As cordial people ought.
"'Most everybody loves the newt;
But I've heard people tell,
That though he's handy with a flute
He can't sew very well.
"So animals, as you may see,
Some grave defects display;
They're not like human beings. We
Are perfect every way."
"Oh, that's a fine one!" cried Hester. "Mayn't I copy that, and have it
to keep?"
"Of course," said King. "I'll make you a copy on the typewriter. Now,
here's a silly one. I mean nonsensical, you know. But I like it:
"THE FUNNY FLAPDOODLE
"There was a Flapdoodle of France,
Who loved to cut capers and dance;
He had one red shoe
And the other was blue,
And how he could shuffle and prance!
"One day he was kicking so high
That a breeze blew him up in the sky;
The breeze was so strong
It blew him along
Till the Flapdoodle just seemed to fly.
"He flew 'way up into the stars,
And, somehow, he landed on Mars.
Said the Flapdoodle: 'I
Do not like to fly;
I think I'll go back on the cars.'
"So a railroad was rapidly built,
And they wrapped him all up in a quilt;
For the Flapdoodle said:
'If I stick out my head
I fear that I'll somehow get kilt!'
"The railroad train whizzed very fast,
But they landed him safely at last;
And through future years
He related, with tears,
The dangers through which he had passed."
"Oh, that's the best of all!" said Midget; "I love that kind of funny
verses. Isn't Uncle Steve clever to write like that! Any more, King?"
"Yes, one more. It isn't about animals, but it's a sort of a nonsense
poem, too. It's called 'A Queer Hospital.'
"There's a hospital down on Absurdity Square,
Where the queerest of patients are tended with care.
"When I made them a visit I saw in a crib
A little Umbrella who had broken his rib.
"And then I observed in the very next bed
A bright little Pin who had bumped his poor head.
"They said a new cure they'd decided to try
On an old Needle, totally blind in one eye.
"I was much interested, and soon I espied
A Shoe who complained of a stitch in her side.
"And a sad-looking patient who seemed in the dumps
Was a Clock, with a swell face because of the mumps.
"Then I tried very hard, though I fear 'twas in vain
To comfort a Window who had a bad pane.
"And I paused just a moment to cheerily speak
With a pale Cup of Tea who was awfully weak.
"As I took my departure I met on the stair
A new patient, whom they were handling with care,
A victim perhaps of some terrible wreck--
'Twas a Squash who had fatally broken his neck."
"This is the nicest _Jolly Sandboy_ paper we've had yet," said Tom, as
King finished.
"Yes, it is," agreed Marjorie. "But I thought Kit wrote some of it,
King."
"She did. I'll read hers now. It's an alphabet, all about us down here.
Kitty wrote it, but she says Uncle Steve helped her a little bit with
some of the lines. It's called 'The Seacote Alphabet.'
"A is the Automobile we all love.
B is the Boat in the water we shove.
C is the Coast that stretches along.
D is for Dick, our Sandow so strong.
E's cousin Ethel, so sweet and refined.
F, Father Maynard, indulgent and kind.
G, Grandma Sherwood, who dresses in drab.
H is for Hester and Harry Sand Crab.
I, for Ice Cream, the Maynards' mainstay.
J, Cousin Jack, always ready to play.
K is for King, and for Kitty, (that's me).
L is for Lakewood, where I went to sea.
M, Mother Maynard, and Marjorie, too.
N for Nurse Nannie, who has lots to do.
O for the Ocean, with big breakers bold.
P for the Pier, where candy is sold.
Q for Queen Sandy, in regal array.
R, Rosy Posy, so dainty and gay.
S is for Seacote, and Sand Court beside.
T is for Tom, the trusty and tried.
U, Uncle Steve, who's helping me write.
V for these Verses we send you to-night.
W, the Waves, that dash with such fuss.
X the Excitement when one catches us.
Y for You Youngsters, I've given your names.
Z is the Zeal you show in your games."
"My! isn't that scrumptious!" exclaimed Hester. "You're a terribly smart
family, Marjorie."
"Oh, I don't know," said Midget, modestly. "Kit's pretty clever at
writing rhymes, but King and I can't do it much. We make up songs
sometimes, but Kitty makes the best ones."
"I wish I could do it," said Ruth; "but I couldn't write a rhyming thing
at all."
"Well, that's all there is in _The Jolly Sandboy_ this week," said King.
"I didn't write any myself, and the things you others gave me, I've
saved for next week. Now, shall we go and celebrate Pocahontas'
birthday?"
"Is it really her birthday?" asked Ruth.
"No, we're just pretending it is. But you see, poor Poky never had her
birthday celebrated; I mean,--not legally, like Washington,--so we're
going to give her a chance."
The Sand Club trooped up to the house, and found Cousin Jack waiting for
them. He was a little surprised to see Hester, but he greeted her
pleasantly, and Hester looked so meek and mild, one would hardly believe
she had a high temper at all. A wigwam had been built on the lawn, and
though it was only a few poles covered with blankets, it looked very
Indian and effective.
The Maynards had contrived costumes for all, and in a few moments the
girls had on gay-fringed skirts and little shawls, with gaudy
headdresses, and the boys had a nondescript Indian garb, and wonderful
feathered headpieces, that hung grandly down their backs like Big
Chiefs.
Also they had pasteboard tomahawks, and Cousin Jack taught them a
war-whoop that was truly ear-splitting.
"First," said Mr. Bryant, "we'll all sing the Blue Juniata, as that is a
pretty Indian song, and so, sort of appropriate to Pocahontas."
So they all sang it, with a will, and the song of "The Indian Girl,
Bright Alfarata," was, in a way, a tribute to Pocahontas.
"Now," Mr. Bryant went on, "some one must tell the story of Pocahontas.
Harry, will you do it?"
But the Sand Crab was too shy to speak in public, so Cousin Jack asked
Ruth to do it.
"I don't know it very well," said Ruth, "but I guess it was like this:
Captain John Smith was about to be tommyhawked all to pieces by admiring
Indians. As the fell blows were about to fell, up rushes a beautiful
Indian maiden, with her black hair streaming in the breeze. 'Fear thou
not!' she said, wildly; 'I will save thee!' Whereupon she flang herself
upon him, and hugged him till he couldn't be reached by his tormentors.
The wild Indians were forced to desist, or else pierce to the heart
their own Pocahontas, beloved daughter of their tribe. So they released
Captain John Smith, and so Pocahontas married Captain John Rolfe
instead, and they lived happy ever after. Hence is why we celebrate her
birthday."
Ruth clearly enjoyed the telling of this tale, and threw herself into it
with dramatic fervor.
The others listened, enthralled by her graphic recital and thrilling
diction.
"My!" exclaimed Midget, as she finished, "I didn't know you knew so many
big words, Ruth."
"I didn't, either," said Ruth, calmly; "they sort of came to me as I
went along."
"Well, that's just as smart as writing poetry," declared King, and Ruth
was greatly pleased at the compliments.
"Now, my dear young friends," Cousin Jack said, by way of a speech, "the
exercises will now begin. As you know, we are celebrating the birthday
of a noble Indian Princess. Therefore, our sports or diversions will all
be of an Indian character. First, we will have an Indian Club Drill."
He produced Indian clubs for all, the boys' being heavier ones than the
girls.
These were new to the Maynards, but Cousin Jack soon taught them how to
use them, and instructed them in a simple drill.
Hester learned more quickly than Marjorie, for she was more lithe and
agile, and swung her clubs around with greater ease. Ruth seemed to know
instinctively how to use them, which was partly due to her proficiency
in fancy dancing. But they all learned, and greatly enjoyed the
interesting exercise.
Cousin Jack presented the children with the clubs they used, and they
promised to practise with them often.
"It'll be good for you growing young people," said Mr. Maynard, "and you
can form a sort of a Pocahontas Club."
Then he had a gramophone brought out to the lawn, and they whisked their
clubs about to inspiriting Indian music.
"Now, I dare say you're tired," said Cousin Jack, "for Indian club
exercise is a strain on the muscles. So sit in a circle on the grass,
and we'll all smoke pipes of peace and swap stories for a while."
The "pipes of peace" turned out to be pipes made of chocolate, so they
were all willing to "smoke" them.
"Mine's a pipe of pieces!" said Midget, as she broke the stem in bits,
and ate them one by one.
The others followed her example, and the pipes had disappeared before
the story-telling fairly began.
But Cousin Jack told them some thrilling Indian tales, and so interested
were his hearers that they gathered close about him, and listened in
absorbed silence.
"Was that true, Cousin Jack?" asked King, after an exciting yarn.
"Well, it's in a story-book written by James Fenimore Cooper. You're old
enough to read his books now, and if I were you children, I'd ask my
parents to buy me some of Cooper's works."
"I'm going to do that," cried Hester, her eyes dancing at the thought of
reading such stories for herself. "I never heard of them before."
"Well, you're young yet to read novels, but Cooper's are all right for
you. You might read one aloud in your Sand Club."
"Yes, we will!" said King. "That'll be fine. Then one book would do for
us all. Or we might each get one, and then lend them around to each
other. My, we're getting lots of new ideas from our celebration. Indian
club exercises and Cooper's stories are worth knowing about."
"And now," said Cousin Jack, "if you're rested, suppose we march along
Indian File, and see if we can come across an Indian Meal."
"Ho, ho!" laughed King, "I don't want to eat Indian meal!"
"We'll see what it is before we decide," said Midget, judicially. "What
is Indian File, Cousin Jack?"
"Oh, that only means single file, or one by one. _Not_ like the Irishman
who said to his men, 'March togither, men! be twos as far as ye go, an'
thin be wans!' I want you to go 'be wans' all the way."
So, in single file, they followed Cousin Jack's lead to the wigwam,
which they hadn't yet entered. He turned back the flap of the tent, and
there was room for all inside. On a table there there were eight Indian
baskets, of pretty design. On lifting the covers, each was found to
contain an "Indian Meal."
The meal was a few dainty little sandwiches and cakes, and a peach and a
pear, all wrapped in pretty paper napkins, with an Indian's head on the
corner.
Exercise had given the children good appetites, and they were quite
ready to do full justice to the "Indian Meal."
Sarah brought out lemonade, and later ice cream, so, as Midget said, it
really was a party after all.
Of course, the children kept the baskets and the pretty napkins as
souvenirs, and when the guests went home, they said they were glad they
didn't know the real date of Pocahontas' birthday, for it _might_ have
been in the winter, and then they couldn't have had nearly as much fun.
"And it's lucky we decided on this day," said Cousin Jack, after the
children had gone, "for to-morrow Ethel and I go back to Cambridge."
"Oh, Cousin Jack, not really!" cried Midget, in dismay.
"Yes, kiddy; we've changed our summer plans suddenly, and we're going to
Europe next week. So we leave here to-morrow. And sorry, indeed, are we
to leave our Maynard friends."
"I'm sorry, too," said Midget, "_awfully_ sorry, but I'm glad we've had
you down here as long as we have. You've been awful good to us, Cousin
Jack."
"You've been good to me, Mehitabel. And when I wander through the
interesting places abroad, I shall write letters to you, and when I come
home again, I'll bring you a souvenir from every place I've been to."
"Well, you're just the dearest Cousin Jack in all the world!" said
Midget, and she gave him a big hug and kiss to corroborate her words.
"And you're just the dearest Mopsy Midget Mehitabel!" he said, returning
her caress.
* * * * *
THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS SERIES
By VICTOR APPLETON
12mo. BOUND IN CLOTH. ILLUSTRATED. UNIFORM STYLE OF BINDING.
Moving pictures and photo plays are famous the world over, and in this
line of books the reader is given a full description of how the films
are made--the scenes of little dramas, indoors and out, trick pictures
to satisfy the curious, soul-stirring pictures of city affairs, life in
the Wild West, among the cowboys and Indians, thrilling rescues along
the seacoast, the daring of picture hunters in the jungle among savage
beasts, and the great risks run in picturing conditions in a land of
earthquakes. The volumes teem with adventures and will be found
interesting from first chapter to last.
THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS
Or Perils of a Great City Depicted.
THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS IN THE WEST
Or Taking Scenes Among the Cowboys and Indians.
THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS ON THE COAST
Or Showing the Perils of the Deep.
THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS IN THE JUNGLE
Or Stirring Times Among the Wild Animals.
THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS IN EARTHQUAKE LAND
Or Working Amid Many Perils.
THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS AND THE FLOOD
Or Perilous Days on the Mississippi.
THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS AT PANAMA
Or Stirring Adventures Along the Great Canal.
THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS UNDER THE SEA
Or The Treasure of the Lost Ship.
GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
* * * * *
THE BUNNY BROWN SERIES
By LAURA LEE HOPE
Author of the Popular "Bobbsey Twins" Books
Wrapper and text illustrations drawn by
FLORENCE ENGLAND NOSWORTHY
12mo. DURABLY BOUND. ILLUSTRATED. UNIFORM STYLE OF BINDING
These stories by the author of the "Bobbsey Twins" Books are eagerly
welcomed by the little folks from about five to ten years of age. Their
eyes fairly dance with delight at the lively doings of inquisitive
little Bunny Brown and his cunning, trustful sister Sue.
Bunny was a lively little boy, very inquisitive. When he did anything,
Sue followed his leadership. They had many adventures, some comical in
the extreme.
BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE
BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE ON GRANDPA'S FARM
BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE PLAYING CIRCUS
BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE AT CAMP REST-A-WHILE
BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE AT AUNT LU'S CITY HOME
BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE IN THE BIG WOODS
BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE ON AN AUTO TOUR
BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE AND THEIR SHETLAND PONY
BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE GIVING A SHOW
BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE AT CHRISTMAS TREE COVE
GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
* * * * *
Transcriber's Notes:
Punctuation has been made consistent with contemporary standards.
"BY THE SAME AUTHOR" page moved to after Title Page and notices.
Page 44: "her. her." changed to "her." (arms around her).
Page 111 "dulness" changed to "dullness" (A dullness seemed to fall).