"Oh! as to that," replied Father Allen with a yawn, "I must confess, I
don't see my way clear to furnishing you with an additional answer. The
only one I should suggest is, let _us_ go to bed."
So the matter was left precisely as it always remained, for George
Edward to follow out his own instincts, and grow up in his own way to
solve life's greatest problem, "How can I best serve mankind, and carry
out Christ's command 'To do unto others as I would that they should do
to me.'"
This narrative, more devoted to the interests of St. George and his
doings, than to records of any other boys, will simply state that the
morrow's morning train brought home the recreant crowd to the bosoms
of their waiting families. The boys of this crowd always mentioned the
old farmer who had passed the night with them, with an air, though not
of fondness, of great respect. What he did to them to thus inspire
them, I am in no position to know--I can only relate that he had great
satisfaction in his part of the evening's entertainment, and that he
simply remarked to Betsey on his return, "I don't think they'll do that
thing again right away," and that Thomas when recalling the event,
would often pause in his work to allow himself the brief respite of a
smile after careful observation that revealed no on-looker.
* * * * *
"I don't think it pays," some voice at my elbow might say, as a pair
of bright young eyes have traced thus far George Edward's career, "to
be always watching to help other people out of scrapes. 'Look out for
yourself' is going to be my motto."
Just wait, dear little friend. The "boy is father to the man" we are
told, and we recognize the fact from the first time we meet the phrase
in our readers and copy books. Isn't it better to be a good father, and
turn out a worthy representative of your family name, that no chance in
life will make one ashamed to meet in after life? What you call "fun"
and "a good time" and "looking out for yourself" now, will perhaps
carry a different name ten or twenty years later. It may possibly be
known among men as selfishness, indifference to public good; or uglier
still, sharp, shrewd handling of moneyed interests committed to your
care, to make them yield benefits to the one who manipulates them. It
may get even to be found deserving the name of a man who recognizes
only the Ego of human existence, than which, you will quite agree with
me, there is no more hateful being under the sun. Think well before you
give up the habit of doing the good you can now to those who are your
neighbors, whether at home or at school.
And this brings me to a second period of George Edward's life, which
was fraught with new responsibilities and pleasures, and which
brought him into a wider field of boyish activity. He was to go away
to boarding-school; the narrow educational advantages of his home
demanding it.
Before the important decision was reached--where to send their boy--Mr.
and Mrs. Allen allowed themselves a whole year to consideration of
the matter. There was not a school of prominence in the length and
breadth of the land, that in some way did not pass under the keen-eyed
watchfulness of the two parents. Not that they personally visited
them all--oh dear, no! how could they? But that in some way, reliable
information of the different school methods, and the principles and
standing of the instructors, was given into their keeping.
"We never shall find a school where we can say confidently we will
place our boy; never in all this world," cried Mrs. Allen one day,
when a letter from a friend upset an almost decided plan of accepting
the "Halloway School for Boys" as the arena for George Edward's
activity. The letter was from a good friend whom they could trust. It
said, "Don't you do it; the system of instruction is faulty, and the
knowledge obtained is shallow."
Father Allen only said, "Don't worry," buttoned up his coat and went
out to try other fields.
At last came the day when those interested could announce the thing
settled. "George Edward Allen is going to Doctor Bugbee's school
in Rockboro," and great grief and lamentation fell upon his old
friends--and who in that town in which his life was spent, was not glad
to claim that friendship?
THE CAMEO SET.
AGAIN the jewel-case was brought out. Lucy Ansted's brother had arrived
for a short visit, and taking advantage of this addition to her forces,
Annie Burton determined to have a tableau party. Grandma Burton, always
interested in whatever the "the children were up to," offered the
girls her old-fashioned jewels for the occasion. But no sooner was the
jewel-case opened than they forgot all about the tableaux and fell to
admiring and asking questions. "These the only cameos I ever saw that I
thought pretty," said Annie, holding up a handsome set.
"Those _are_ handsome!" said Lucy. "Mamma has cameos, but they are
common-looking things. Seems to me they cannot be the same kind; I
think there is a difference in the color."
"Very likely," replied Mrs. Burton. "I presume your mother's are
shell cameos. The most of the modern cameos are made from sea shells.
The shells have two layers of different colors. Usually the outside
is white and the inner layer brown or coffee-colored. I once had an
opportunity of visiting a cameo cutter's workshop. It was not easy
to get admission, but an artist friend of your grandfather's took me
there."
"Can you tell us about the process?"
"It was many years ago, and my impressions of what I saw have grown
somewhat dim, still I can tell you something about it. I remember that
he told me that the shell he was cutting came from the coast of Brazil.
Another which he showed me was from the Bahamas, and he said that some
of those used came from the Indies, both East and West, and also from
the African coast."
"Are the shells used of a peculiar sort?"
[Illustration: PREPARING FOR TABLEAUX.]
"They are the ordinary conch-shell. In each one there is material for
only a single cameo, large or small. The available part is sawed out by
persons employed for that work, who also shape the cameo by grinding
the piece upon a grindstone, making it square or oval as desired; then
it is ready to be handed over to the artist. The cutter fastens the
shell into a small block of wood, of a size convenient for grasping
firmly with the left hand. He then draws the outline of the figure he
wishes to put upon it with a pencil. When the work is outlined upon the
white surface, he begins to scratch the line with a fine steel needle,
following his pencil mark very carefully. The artist I saw at work
inspected his scratches with a magnifying glass at almost every scratch
of his needle. I call it a needle because that describes the fine steel
tool which he used. After he had finished the outline he began to work
with small, sharp chisels, cutting away the white layer of shell around
the figure he had outlined. He worked away carefully, chipping and
scraping until it was all removed, leaving the portrait of some old
Roman a raised white figure upon a dark ground. It seems simple enough
to hear about it, or to see it done, but it requires a skilful hand
and a practised eye. There is a finishing process of polishing with
putty powder. This is applied with a stiff brush and is said to be a
very delicate operation, though it seems as easy as the polishing of a
silver spoon."
Lucy had been turning over the articles in one of the compartments of
the jewel-case and now held up a small cameo pin.
"That is a shell cameo!" said Grandma; "I had quite forgotten it. Now
if you will observe, you will see that the edges of the raised white
part are left square-cut, not rounded or sloped."
"Why is that?" asked Lucy.
"If the white layer were cut thinner by the rounding or sloping of the
edges, the dark layer would show through, and the outline would be less
clearly defined."
"I see! A very simple explanation."
"A great many things are plain after you know the whys and wherefores."
"But, grandma," said Lucy, "this set of yours--is this a shell cameo?"
"No; I was going to tell you about that. It is very old, and somewhat
rare in design and workmanship. It belonged to your great-grandmother
Burton. It is an onyx. The art of cutting shell cameos is a modern one.
I think it is not a hundred years since shell cameos were introduced,
but the art of cutting precious stones like the onyx and agate, in
fact, any stone which has layers of different colors, is very ancient.
The Greeks and Romans understood the art, and even in Babylonish days
it was practised, and used for the ornamenting of vases, cups, urns."
"There are a few very fine specimens of antique cameos to be found in
Europe. One in Paris is twelve inches long by ten inches wide. And the
Gonzaga Cameo in St. Petersburg is one of the finest." It was Grandpa
Burton who said this, joining for the first time in the talk which
drifted to other topics, in which we have just now no special interest.
But Mrs. Burton noticed that Lucy laid aside the cameos for the tableau
party.
WILMOT CONDEE.
[Illustration: ROUND THE FAMILY LAMP]
THE ROSE-GAME.
I WANT to tell you, dear Pansies, of a lovely little game for the
most beautiful month in the year--the month of roses. It is played
out-of-doors, of course, in the long, beautiful sweet evening, when
father and mother, and the older members of the family circle who do
not care to participate actively, can sit on the porch, or by the open
window, and see the pretty fun go on.
Make a chain of roses, just as one makes a daisy chain, or a chain of
any other flowers. Use all kinds and colors of roses--being careful to
distribute shades nicely. String on strong enough cord or ribbon to
support the flowers.
Now choose your leader, either a boy or girl. Let all players assemble
under a tree, or on the porch. The leader holding chain, comes up to
them, and if addressing a girl, says, bowing low, "Pretty maid, wilt
join us?"
(If to a boy)
"Pretty sir, wilt join us?"
When you have as many as can comfortably take hold of chain, move off
to the smooth lawn. And here let me say, you better calculate before
making your chain, how many children will take part in the game. Do
not, I beg, crowd out any who would like to play. Always remember that
a slight like this, or a disappointment, would make you feel very
badly, and remembering this, make your games to bring pleasure to every
one, and only productive of happy memories.
Now then, you are on the lawn. The leader gives the word. All take
hold by both hands of rose-chain, and dance around, singing,
Ring around-a-rosy,
Jack must get a posy,
or,
Sue must get a posy,
or whatever the name of child who is first sent. As quick as lightning,
Jack or Sue must leave chain and dancers, rush off into the garden,
pick a flower, no matter what kind, and fly back, the others holding
chain, dancing and singing,
Ring around-a-rosy,
Jack will bring a posy.
When the posy is brought, Jack throws it into the centre of ring, on
the lawn. Do this until all players have brought a flower. If gone
longer than they ought to be, they forfeit their places. When all have
brought flowers, the ring dance around once more, singing,
Ring around-a-rosy,
Each has brought a posy.
Then the leader gives signal to stop. He picks up the heap of flowers,
and, leading the way, he conducts all players to the porch, where with
a low bow he presents to mother the posy heap, all singing,
Ring around-a-rosy,
Each brings you now a posy,
the leader throwing the rose chain around mamma's neck--which _entre
nous_, I think she will always preserve in her best rose jar.
May the sweetest, longest June evening be made very happy in playing
this Rose-Game.
MARGARET SIDNEY.
THE FLOWER CHORUS.
THIS may be arranged for twenty, or more, quite little girls, say in
groups of five; representing roses, lilies, daisies, and pansies. It
would be well to have the children decorated as much as possible with
the flowers they represent, and let each carry a bouquet of the same.
(_Concert Recitation; children arranged in a semicircle._)
We are Jesus' little Blossoms
Blooming in his bowers;
And He watches us and loves us,
His little human flowers.
Blooming, blooming everywhere,
Each of priceless worth,
And he bids us reach out
Over all the earth.
(_As the last line is given, let the children make a waving motion
outward, with the hand that holds the flowers._)
THE ROSES.
(_Let the five or more children who represent them, step slightly
forward, and hold their bouquets just before them, looking down at
them, and appearing to get their perfume as they speak._)
Our Heavenly Father's roses
Are very sweet and bright;
And we should bloom just like them,
From morning until night.
Blooming, blooming everywhere,
Each of priceless worth,
So he bids us blossom
Over all the earth.
If roses are plenty, it makes a very effective addition to this
recitation, for each of the children to toss out toward the audience,
roses, here and there, as they give the last two lines; not, however,
disturbing their bouquets.
THE LILIES.
Our Saviour's precious lilies
Grew, lovely, at His feet;
Oh would that we could blossom
As beautiful and sweet!
Blooming, blooming everywhere,
Each of priceless worth,
So He bids us scatter
Over all the earth.
(_As the last four lines are given, let the roses join with the lilies
in recitation, waving their flowers, and scattering them abroad, if
this is feasible._)
THE DAISIES.
And these are God's fair daisies
That bloom on plain and hill;
We too would blossom like them,
And do our Father's will.
Blooming, blooming everywhere,
Each of priceless worth,
So He bids us blossom
Over all the earth.
(_Let the roses and lilies join, and obey the directions given above._)
THE PANSIES.
Our Father's lovely pansies
Look up, with tender grace;
And we would blossom like them,
A joy in every place.
Blooming, blooming everywhere,
Each of priceless worth,
So he bids us blossom
Over all the earth.
(_All join in the last four lines, as before; then form in a circle,
holding up their bouquets in a compact mass, like a wreath, or crown,
and give the last verse in concert._)
We are all our Father's flowers,
Blooming in His bowers,
And we want to blossom
In valley, plain, or meadow,
In sunshine, storm, or shadow,
Just as sweetly still,
And do our Father's will.
(_Then let them quickly form a procession, and march around the
platform, or down the aisle, or in any direction in which they are to
make their exit, scattering roses, lilies, daisies and pansies from
their bouquets as they march, singing the refrain:_)
Blooming, blooming everywhere,
Each of priceless worth,
So He bids us blossom
Over all the earth.
(_The refrain can be repeated as many times as it is necessary, in
passing out; any simple tune which the children know, can be used in
singing it._)
MRS. C. E. FISHER.
BEN, DAN, AND JACK.
THEY lived in a long, low, rambling house; it might have been built a
century ago, so queer and old-fashioned was it. But little cared the
boys; they had good times. Mr. and Mrs. Prentice believed in boys;
and they believed in boys having good times, always provided the good
did not mean bad. For one thing, the Prentice boys were allowed to go
barefooted. Now every boy knows that it is fun to go barefoot. They
wore palm leaf hats in summer, which were not too good to play "pitch
and toss" with. They were allowed to despoil the squash vines for
leaf stalks to make "squawk pipes," and nice golden pumpkins from the
field were not too precious in the eyes of Farmer Prentice to be used
in making jack-o'-lanterns; they were allowed to go a-fishing; to go
a-berrying, and to make up nutting parties, and, best fun of all, when
all the neighborhood turned out to hunt the coons which were destroying
the corn crop, the boys were allowed to join in the hunt.
How good the green corn roasted by that midnight fire down in the old
pasture lot, just over the fence from the corn lot, tasted. And that
was the time they learned the secret of roasting eggs and potatoes in
the hot ashes. How carefully they rolled the eggs in many layers of
brown paper, and then wetting them thoroughly laid them in the bed
made ready, and covering with the heated ashes they listened for the
cracking of the shells which would tell that the eggs were done. But
these boys did not spend all their time in just having "good times."
Now and then as they gathered around the kitchen fire in winter or were
grouped in the yard, they would forget their popping corn or their
jack-o'-lantern and fall to talking over the last book they had read.
There was no lack of books in the Prentice home. For if Mr. and Mrs.
Prentice believed in boys, they also believed in books for boys.
"Any gunpowder under that?" asked Dan one morning, coming around the
corner of the house and seeing a great pile of kindling wood which Jack
was splitting.
"Not a keg!" was the reply.
"I thought you must be plotting some mischief or you would never have
stuck to the work long enough to split such a pile as that," continued
Dan.
"There is a plot, that's a fact," returned Jack; "but it is not a
Gunpowder Plot. I am going to ask father to let me go with Johnson
when he goes after those cattle, and we shall be gone three days, so I
thought it would advance my cause a little if the kindlings were all
ready beforehand."
"You are a sharp fellow," said Dan, laughing, "a very sharp fellow."
"But wasn't that Gunpowder Plot a scheme though!" said Jack.
"Well, I confess I don't know much about it," replied Ben, who had in
his lazy fashion thrown himself on the ground. "Just tell a fellow
about it and save him the trouble of reading it."
"That is what Jack is aching to do," said Dan, laughing. "Jack is the
orator of the family, you know."
"Go ahead, old fellow," and Ben shifted his weight from one elbow to
the other.
"It was in the reign of James the First; he was James the Sixth of
Scotland; he was the son of Mary Stuart, and as she was a Catholic,
the Catholics of England supposed her son would restore, or at least
tolerate, the Catholic faith in England. But they were bitterly
disappointed in this expectation; the old laws against it were put into
execution and others more severe passed by Parliament. And it was out
of this intolerance that the famous Gunpowder Plot grew. The scheme
was to blow up with gunpowder the Parliament House, while Parliament
was in session, and so destroy the king and members of Parliament.
There was a vault under the building which the conspirators hired as a
salesroom for wood and coal. They put in stealthily thirty-six barrels
of gunpowder and then covered these with the wood and prepared a train
so that the whole could be fired at once. They had a ship ready to take
Fawkes on board--"
"You've got ahead of your story! tell us who was Fawkes."
"He was one of the conspirators, a Spanish officer who superintended
the business and was to touch it off. Authorities do not quite agree
as to how the secret leaked out. It is supposed that one of the
conspirators wanted to save some of his friends and so warned them to
keep away from the Parliament House on the day set for the execution of
the plot, and suspicion was thus aroused, and Guy Fawkes was arrested
just as he was about to apply the match to the train. He was tried and
executed along with several others. The day set for the horrible deed
was the fifth of November, 1605, and it has ever since been observed as
a holiday in England."
"You've done well," said Dan. "But you left out a lot; you forgot to
tell how they first hired a house next to the place where Parliament
was held and tried to dig through the walls."
"I did not forget it, but it amounted to nothing and they abandoned
that plan, and I thought Ben could read that up for himself. I have
noticed that if you tell him a part of a story he will go and find
out the rest. The best way is, to tell him just enough to whet his
curiosity."
Dan was half-way to the barn before this remark was ended, but glancing
back he saw Ben and Jack down on the grass _having it out_ in a regular
"rough and tumble."
F. H.
[Illustration: BEN, DAN, AND JACK.]
[Illustration: THE P.S. Corner]
DEAR PANSIES:
Will every one of you put on your "thinking caps" and give careful
attention to what I am about to say? All summer I am to be away from
home; in Kansas, Wisconsin, Nebraska, and I hardly know where else;
flitting from one city to another, only a few days in a place. As a
consequence, unless you pay close attention, I shall not be able to
hear from you. Because letters will fail to reach me. But I shall have
a secretary who will stay all summer at Chautauqua, Chautauqua Co.,
N. Y. If you address me _at that place_, she will get the letters,
attend to the business part of them, and see that they are sent to me.
Will you remember, and send letters to me at Chautauqua, instead of
Cincinnati, or Carbondale, or any other place?
This direction holds good for the months of June, July, August and
September. After that, I will give you other information.
Another thing, _do not send subscription money for_ THE PANSY _to me;
but always to D. Lothrop & Co., Boston_.
When you want badges, send name and pledge to me; also ten cents in
postage stamps, unless you are a subscriber. Subscribers are entitled
to badges free of charge. All letters about THE PANSY, or about your
work or plans, all questions connected with the P. S. are to be sent to
my address; but _remember_, when you want to subscribe for THE PANSY,
send your dollar directly to Boston.
Years ago we used to have a department in THE PANSY which met with much
favor. This was a letter or article by the Editor, containing all the
words which had been misspelled or improperly used during the month,
by young correspondents; of course no names were mentioned.
We have determined to begin in July, a similar exercise, continuing
it so long as there shall be any call for it. If, during any month,
all letters received have been correct as to spelling, punctuation,
capitals, grammar, etc., you may know it by the absence of the
"queer-looking" article the following month.
Each member of the P. S. is expected to carefully read and correct the
article. If you choose to report to me your success, I shall be glad;
but this is not a rule.
A good plan would be to have an exercise in your local societies, the
president giving out the words from THE PANSY, and each member writing
them, as he or she thinks they ought to be; then let the papers be
exchanged and read, first appointing an umpire, dictionary in hand, to
decide as to correctness.
Look out for my first letter, next month.
Lovingly, PANSY.
DEAR PANSIES:
Through the bright summer months, while away at seashore, or mountains,
we know there will come many idle moments when it is too hot to play,
and when books do not engross. In these moments, may you hear the
voices of those patient little ones, who, too sick and suffering to
play out of doors, are lying on beds of suffering, only knowing of the
green fields, and cool brooks, and lovely summer-tide places, from
their memories, or from what others tell them. At such moments, oh,
dear Pansies, let your fingers be busy in making those things that
you know children like them would enjoy, and your tongues be active,
interesting the other children of the hotel or the boarding-house
in this ministry of love. It is now some four years since the Pansy
Society was formed. Its members are legion, from the Atlantic to the
Pacific, and it has done much noble work. But we aim for great results,
and we mean this summer to accomplish much good. We wonder which of our
workers will lead.
M. S.
_Walter_ from Virginia. Another sunshiny face will give light in the
home, if you keep your pledge, my boy, as I seem to feel sure you
will. It is easy to find something to look cross at; almost anybody
can do that; but the people are rather few who can look pleasant when
things do not go just right. The few who do this, are among the most
helpful people we have in the world.