Strangways had never seen the wonderful locket. What an omission! Her
hand went up under her fur boa to bring that neglected ornament into its
proper position; then stopped short. The thin little bit of blue ribbon
dangled aimless there, to be sure, but there was no locket.
I don't think Beata will ever forget that moment, if she lives to be an
old woman. Her face looked almost gray as she turned it up speechlessly
to Cousin Cecil's wondering gaze.
"My locket! oh, my locket!" she managed to gasp.
"Your locket, dear? Why, what's the matter? Oh, Beata, you don't mean to
say you wore it?"
"Oh yes, I did, I did; and now it's gone."
Cousin Cecil looked very grave indeed. "Oh, Beata!" was all she said,
but it was worse than any words almost.
"Oh, do let's find it; do look--do, do!"
"We'll look; but as to finding it--" But Cousin Cecil broke off short.
There was a scream from the other end of the lake, where the village
boys and girls had made a slide--a shrill, sharp cry--and a little tiny
boy, such a ragged, wretched mite, lay flat upon the hard cold ice.
Captain Strangways started to go, but Cecil was there first. She was
down upon her knees, and had the wee dirty face on her arm, before he
could reach her side, for he was heavier and slower than she. She looked
up with a serious face as he bent down to her.
"Poor little mite! I am afraid he's hurt. He was too small to slide. I
must get him home this minute. Where does he live?"
"Please, miss, down to Bill Green's; they're a-lodgin'. Please, miss,
they're tramps; that was his ma that's just gone, her in the red shawl
there," rose in a hubbub of voices.
"Oh, poor wee man! I'll take him home."
"Pray, Miss Vyner, let me," said Captain Strangways, struggling with his
skates.
"Oh no, please don't: I'd rather. It's only a step. He isn't heavy. No,
please. If you'll take the children home for me, I won't be long."
"But you must not go alone, and it's almost dusk."
"Jim shall go with me," and she beckoned to a stable-boy in the crowd.
"Indeed, Captain Strangways, I would much rather you did not come,
really;" and reluctantly he stooped and unfastened her skates, and stood
watching her as she passed quickly down toward the village, with Jim in
attendance, and the little child in her arms.
"It's all right, really," said Rex, trying to cut a double S, and
failing signally. "Don't you know Cousin Cecil is doctor to half the
village?"
"And oh!" said a tearful voice, "could you help me to look for my
locket?"
"By all means," said the kind young soldier, and they set to work with a
will, but without success; no locket was to be seen.
"I'll tell you what, Beata," said Rex, as the fading light warned them
to join the group starting homeward, "it's no go. We'll tell Adams, and
get him to set the gardeners and stablemen to work early in the morning,
but you can't see your own nose now. I believe the woman in the red
shawl boned it. Don't cry; you know the Spartans--"
But there was a sob as they turned away, and even Captain Strangways's
comforting hand-clasp could not quite console poor Beata.
Everybody was having afternoon tea when they reached home. The great
square hall, with its polished walls and rafters, was all aglow with the
light from the great wood fire on the old stone hearth. There was a
pleasant clatter of tea-spoons, and a most appetizing aroma of hot tea
and muffins, and a great deal of chattering and soft laughter from the
ladies in their low easy-chairs, and the gentlemen who were handing
tea-cups. Captain Strangways secured a very big carved chair on the
outside of the circle, and the children nestled down close to him on the
tiger-skin rug. It was only the holiday-time that gained them this
distinguished honor of taking tea down stairs, instead of in the
school-room. But Beata did not feel grown up at all; she was far too
busy mourning over the lost locket, and thinking of the confession that
would have to be made to mamma by-and-by. Rex was very silent too, but
he was busy with the muffins. I don't know whether they had muffins in
Sparta, but on that subject he said not a word.
The laughter and the tea-drinking went on, but no Cousin Cecil appeared.
Captain Strangways had twice gone over to look out at the deepening
darkness, and each time he came back looking graver, when all at once
the great hall door opened softly, there was a sudden rush of cold air,
and in came Cecil, very gently and quietly.
Captain Strangways was on his feet, had unfastened her fur cloak, placed
her in the big chair, and brought her a cup of tea, before Rex had
swallowed the mouthful of muffin upon which he was engaged. When his
speech returned to him, however, he asked, with un-Spartanlike
eagerness,
"Well, and how's the little chap?"
"Better now, dear, but he was really hurt." Then, leaning forward, "Look
here, Beata," she said, very seriously, and dropped something into her
lap.
Beata started up with a little cry, "My locket! oh, my locket!"
"Then I do believe that old red shawl stole it, after all. Has she gone
to prison?"
"Oh, hush, Rex! Listen, children: what sort of a home do you think I
took that poor little man to? Nothing but the shed behind Green's
smithy; no fire, no bed but straw, no food. He had cut his head, but I
soon bound that up, and then--oh, how can I tell you?--his mother, that
poor pale creature in the red shawl, came up to me, just as I was coming
away, and with tears and sobs she gave me this. She said she saw it
fall, and picked it up in hopes of a reward, and then--and then she
thought of the food it would buy for her miserable little starving
babies (there were two more in the shed), and oh, children, _she meant
to keep it_!"
There was a moment's silence.
"Then why--why did she give it to you?" said a somewhat husky voice:
perhaps the hardening process had given Rex cold.
"She said, when I brought the little boy home, she couldn't do it. She
said--and I believe it is true--that it is the first time in her life
she took what wasn't hers, and it was only the starving babies, and the
sight of the glittering locket, that tempted her. Oh, Beata dear, don't
you see now what it is to wear things that may put temptation in other
people's way?"
Something as bright as the diamond nails glistened on the locket on
Beata's lap.
"I'll tell mamma every bit about it," she murmured, with drooping head,
"and ask her to take it away, and never let me even see it till I'm
grown up."
"Yes; and, Beata"--and Cousin Cecil's voice sank so low that no one else
could hear--"when you say, 'Lead us not into temptation,' to-night, ask
to be kept from ever tempting anybody else, and think of poor little
Tom's mother, won't you?"
"But, I say, cousin"--Rex was a little husky still--"are they all
starving and shivering down there now?"
"Oh no; Mrs. Green has taken them in for the night, and Jim has just
gone back with some hot soup and other things for them, and to-morrow we
must settle more. I'm sure Uncle George will help."
"And Beata's and my pocket-money--at least what's left after Christmas
and all those chocolates we bought the other day. Now, Beata, I hope
you'll give up wearing lockets and tomfoolery like that. In Sparta--"
"Have another muffin, Rex, my boy?" said Captain Strangways; and Rex's
valuable items of information respecting that classic land were lost to
the general public--at least as far as that occasion was concerned.
GUESS.
If all the wealth on earth could be
To one man given, still would not he
Be rich as I. O'er land and sea
I scatter gold. I fill the air
With precious specks. Ay! everywhere
I of my treasure give a share,
And yet have countless stores to spare.
[Begun in HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE No. 66, February 1.]
PHIL'S FAIRIES.
BY MRS. W. J. HAYS,
AUTHOR OF "PRINCESS IDLEWAYS," ETC.
CHAPTER VII.
FAREWELL TO THE CITY.
A day or two later, Phil, wrapped in shawls, was carried by Joe to a
carriage, and the carriage rolled away to a wharf where puffed numerous
steamboats; and here he was taken on board one of the river-steamers,
and safely placed in the midst of a heap of pillows on deck, where he
could see all the busy life about him--see the newspaper boys and the
orange women, and the hurrying hacks and the great teams, and all the
stir and tumult of the city's busiest hours. Miss Schuyler, in her cool
gray suit, was on one side of him, and Lisa, looking tranquil and
thoroughly glad and grateful, on the other, and Joe, just the happiest
darky in the world, sat at his feet ready to take charge of all and
everything.
They sailed and they sailed, away from the city and its many roofs, from
the factory chimneys and the steeples, from the cloud of smoke which
hung between the sky and house-tops, until they came to the hills and
dales of pasture-lands and villages. Then they landed, and were whirled
away in the cars, and Phil enjoyed it all, even the fatigue which made
him sleep; and Joe carried him about as if he were a baby.
It was quite dark when, after a drive over a rather rough road, they
reached the lake-side cottage which was Miss Schuyler's summer home, and
Phil was glad to be put in bed, for the old pain had begun again.
When he opened his eyes the next morning, it was with a strange feeling
of wonder at his new surroundings. Birds were twittering out-of-doors,
and there was a soft lapping of water on the shore. The green boughs of
a cherry-tree almost brushed against the window-panes. He was no longer
in his old garret room, but in a pretty apartment, with bunches of
rose-buds on the walls, and scent-bottles on the toilet table, and
muslin curtains, and a bright carpet, and pretty book-shelves, and
brackets, and lovely child-faces in the engravings; and on a broad table
was a little easel, and a paint-box, and drawing-paper; and here too was
his old box with the violin strings.
"Oh," said Phil, softly, "I wonder if heaven is any better than this!"
He had closed his eyes as he said it, and went over his usual morning
prayer of thankfulness; and when he opened his eyes, there was Lisa with
his breakfast tray--poached eggs and toast and a goblet of milk.
"Lisa, Lisa, is not this too nice for anything?" asked Phil.
"Yes, indeed, dear, it is nice. Miss Schuyler says you must hurry and
get strong, so that you can make the acquaintance of the hens that laid
these eggs for you, and the cow whose milk is to do you so much good."
"What is the cow's name, Lisa?"
"I don't know," said Lisa.
"It is Daisy," said Miss Schuyler, coming in to say good-morning. "She's
a lovely little Alderney, and her milk is like cream. Oh, you will soon
be strong enough to row my boat for me."
"A boat!--have you a boat?"
"Yes, and you are going out on the lake in her this very morning."
"It is just too much happiness, Miss Schuyler."
"Well, we will not overpower you. For a day or two you must rest, and do
nothing but breathe the sweet air. I have to be busy getting things in
order and looking after my garden. Lisa will take her work on the
piazza, and you can lie in one of the easy-chairs. Joe is to wait on
you, and do a little weeding, and keep the paths in order, and bail out
the boat; and the old man seems to be very much at home already. So that
is the order of the day. Now good-by, and don't do too much thinking."
[Illustration: ON THE LAKE.]
"One moment, Miss Schuyler; do you believe in fairies?"
"Just a little," said Miss Schuyler, with a quizzical smile.
"Well, I believe in them," said Phil, "and I think you are one of the
best of them."
"Oh no, I am very human, dear Phil, as you will find out. And now I must
go look after my strawberry beds. Good-by."
"Good-by," said Phil, waving her a kiss. "Only think, Lisa, we will
actually see strawberries growing! It is quite fairy-land for me."
After that he was carried down to the easy-chair on the piazza, where he
could see the lawn sloping down to the lake, and watch the birds
lighting on the rim of a vase full of daisies and running vines. He
could see that the cottage was low and broad, and painted in two shades
of brown; that there were arbors covered with grapevines on one side,
and on the other he knew there were flower beds and fruit trees, for
every once in a while Miss Rachel was to be seen emerging from there in
a broad straw flat, and with buckskin gloves, trailing long bits of
string or boughs of green stuff, with scissors and trowel and
watering-can.
Lisa had her work-basket, and with deft fingers and a little under-tone
of psalmody was fashioning a pretty summer garment. Then Miss Rachel
came and tossed a basketful of early roses and syringa down beside Phil,
and put a little table beside him, with some slender glass vases and a
pitcher of water, and asked him to arrange the flowers for her. This he
was glad to do, and made the bunches up as prettily as his nice taste
suggested. But he was really wearied with great happiness. It was all so
new, so charming, every sense was so satisfied, that at last he closed
his eyes and slept.
It seemed to him only a little while, but when he opened his eyes again,
Lisa was beside him with his dinner; and after dinner he slept again,
and when he wakened the lawn was in shadow, and the sun low in the sky,
and the birds were twittering and seeking their nests, and Miss Rachel
was telling Joe to put cushions in the boat, the _Flyaway_; and
presently Phil found himself floating gently on the lovely water of the
lake, and the cottage and lawn and arbors were looking like a pretty bit
of landscape he had seen in books.
He dipped his fingers in the clear water, and looked down at the pebbly
bottom, and listened to the even dip of the oars, as old Joe rowed
farther out from shore.
"It must be fairy-land," thought Phil, but he said nothing; he was too
happy to talk. And so the day ended, the first day in the country.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
PINAFORE RHYMES.--(_Continued._)
[Illustration]
Bow! wow! wow! You'd better run;
I'm just the dog to spoil your fun;
I'll tear your dresses, and bite your heels,
Till every one of you shrieks and squeals.
So, there! I've scared them well, I must say;
But I'm very glad that they ran away;
It wouldn't have been such jolly fun,
If they had made me turn tail and run.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
Six chimney-sweeps, each black as a crow,
Had a big fight with a man of snow.
They beat him to pieces because he was white,
And had a triumphant feast that night.
Their dishes were blackbirds and crows, 'tis said,
Chimney-soot pudding and charcoal bread.
And they swallowed a dozen bottles of ink,
Being very choice in their meat and drink.
[Illustration]
Here, you little monkey, you,
I want to see you play with Lu;
She's such a pretty little miss,
Shake hands with her, and give a kiss.
_Won't!_
Why not, when Lulu wants to play,
And asks in such a pretty way?
_Can't!_
Why not, you little sauce-box, say?
_Sha'n't!_
[Illustration]
Here's a dainty little tree,
With its spreading leaves so free;
It's so pretty, that I will
Keep it on my window-sill.
[Illustration: OUR POST-OFFICE BOX]
RATON, NEW MEXICO.
My brother and sisters and myself live at Chicorica Park. It is a
very pretty place, situated in the Raton Mountains. We have had
parties of as many as three hundred Indians hunting in our cañon at
once, but it is a year and a half now since we have seen any. We
have a good many deer here. Seven have been killed since Christmas,
but one was carried off by a mountain lion.
We like HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE very much, especially the Jimmy
Brown stories, and "Toby Tyler." We are all English children, and
have never lived anywhere in America except in New Mexico. Our
pets are dogs and cats and a colt. We like the colt best of all.
We have had some very heavy snow-storms, and the cañon has been
impassable several times this winter, so we have not received
YOUNG PEOPLE very regularly. I am twelve years old.
G. KERCHEVAL M.
* * * * *
CLIFTON HEIGHTS, PENNSYLVANIA.
I like the life of Lafayette which was published in YOUNG PEOPLE so
much! I have the lives of generals in my history, but the way they
are written in YOUNG PEOPLE is so much more interesting! I wish the
paper was published twice a week, it seems so long to wait to hear
how Toby Tyler gets along. On Wednesday morning it is "Hallo! has
YOUNG PEOPLE come?" all over our house. Mamma says it is a great
blessing. We think the little girl with her first muff in the
picture in No. 68 is so sweet and chubby and baby-like, that if she
was alive we should just love her to death.
I have a dog named Major, who sits up on his hind-legs and hangs
down his fore-paws pitifully, as if they were broken, and some
people think they really are; but Major only does it to beg for
candy. He has many friends, and sometimes they bring him sticks of
candy all the way from Philadelphia.
It has been so cold here this winter that some of our sparrows
fell to the ground half frozen. We brought them into the house,
and when they got warm we opened the window and let them fly away.
GEORGY H.
* * * * *
BELLEFONTAINE, OHIO.
I am six years old. I began to take YOUNG PEOPLE on the first of
January, and I like it ever so much. I learned the little poem in
No. 66 about the strawberry vines, and how the snowy blanket
covered their saucy little heads. I speak it for grandma, and she
says it is beautiful.
Christmas papa gave me a beautiful little stove, all
nickel-plated. I bake pies and cake and other nice things for my
little friends and myself to eat.
My uncle brought me a doll from New York city, and my other uncle
gave me a little trunk to put her clothes in.
ETHEL B.
* * * * *
DENISON, IOWA.
I wish YOUNG PEOPLE came every day instead of once a week. I was so
sorry when "Mildred's Bargain" was finished! but I like the other
stories ever so much, especially "Toby Tyler." I read all the
letters in the Post-office Box, and wish I could see all the boys
and girls who write them. The little girl away down in Texas who
wrote about the first snow has no idea how much fun we Northern
children have coasting on the snow crust, sometimes over drifts
eight and ten feet deep.
Last Friday I spoke "Lily's Ball," the poem in No. 67 of YOUNG
PEOPLE, at my school, and next week I am going to speak "My First
Muff," in No. 68.
MABEL.
* * * * *
NEW YORK CITY.
I think Toby Tyler is a great boy. We used to have a monkey named
Jack. Every night he would put a shawl over his head and go to
sleep. Sometimes he would hold the kitten in his arms and try to
put her to sleep. He would get on our pig's back, and hold on to
his ears, and ride all around, and he would ride horseback to the
village. When any one went out, he would watch to see if any candy
were brought home, and if it was, he would stand on his hind-legs
and put out his paw until the paper was opened. I am almost eight
years old.
WILLIE K. T.
* * * * *
HOUSTON, TEXAS, _February_ 22, 1881.
I wish to notify correspondents that I have exchanged to the full
extent of my collection, and I beg them not to write to me any
more.
H. C. YANCEY.
* * * * *
FOREST LAKE, PENNSYLVANIA.
My papa promised me YOUNG PEOPLE as soon as I could read it myself.
I tried very hard after that, and last November, on my seventh
birthday, sure enough it came. I don't believe any little boy
enjoys it more than I do. I must tell you of one thing it has done
for me. I was always afraid to be left alone, especially after
dark. After reading the story in No. 55 about the little girl who
broke herself of being so timid, I went every night from garret to
cellar all alone after dark, and now I am not afraid to go anywhere
in the house, even if it is very dark.
I have a little brother named Harry. I love him very much. He
likes the pictures in YOUNG PEOPLE as much as I do. I think Jimmy
Brown is jolly.
WRIGHTIE G.
* * * * *
SAN ANTONIO, TEXAS.
I have two mocking-birds for pets. They whistle so pretty! I am
going to have a pretty flower garden this summer. Spring is here
(February 16), and the peach-trees are budding, and everybody is
making gardens.
I like all the stories in YOUNG PEOPLE. I always laugh so hard
when mamma reads Jimmy Brown to me! I wish he would send another
story.
MAY K.
* * * * *
_February_ 24, 1881.
I have no more pure white coral left, but I have a piece with a
little red in it which I will send to a boy who sent me a specimen
of ore, if he will kindly send me his address again.
I would like to send "Wee Tot" a piece of red coral from the Red
Sea, if she will send me some ocean curiosities and her address.
SALLIE KELLEY,
Kleine St., East Walnut Hills, Cincinnati, Ohio.
* * * * *
Fred Glasier, of Adams, Massachusetts, regrets being unable to make a
return for some favors he has received, as the addresses, although
given, were so illegible that he could not decipher them. Addresses
should always be written distinctly. The Post-office Box is often
compelled to neglect exchanges which are pretty and suitable, because
the address is as mysterious as the hieroglyphics on our Egyptian
obelisk.
* * * * *
Last year my father gave me a Columbia bicycle. We have a bicycle
club here, with about twenty members, of which I am one. Our suit
is brown corduroy, with red stockings. The cap is like the suit.
I would like to exchange some of the first American pennies and
halfpennies, for foreign coins.
ARTHUR C. KETCHAM,
Care of William P. Ketcham. P. O. Box 10,
Yonkers, N. Y.
* * * * *
I will exchange bayberry-tallow, for peacock coal, or postage
stamps from Cape of Good Hope or Barbadoes.
A. M. FORMAN,
116 Pierrepont Street, Brooklyn, N. Y.
Bayberry-tallow is greenish in color, and is obtained by boiling the
berries of the bayberry, or wax myrtle (_Myrica cerifera_). This shrub,
which is very aromatic, grows in great abundance all along the Atlantic
coast. It is found in such quantities in some localities of Long Island
that the gathering of the berries and the manufacture of tallow for
candles amount to an extensive local industry.
* * * * *
I have taken YOUNG PEOPLE since the first copy. My brother has
bound it with strings, and it makes a very pretty volume.
I have often answered correspondents, always receiving, in
exchange for foreign stamps, articles of equal value.
I have nearly two thousand duplicates of foreign stamps, which I
will exchange for other foreign stamps, or for stamps of United
States departments. I will also exchange postmarks for anything
interesting.
JOHN THOMAS,
3420 Sansom Street, Philadelphia, Penn.
* * * * *
My mamma says she will make a pretty flower out of any little
girl's hair, or her mamma's, in exchange for curious shells,
minerals, or a genuine Indian bow and arrow. A bunch of hair from
one to two feet long and as thick as a goose quill will make a
pretty flower.
ADELLA P. LIPPINCOTT,
New Hope, Bucks County, Penn.
* * * * *
I have four Chilian stamps, which I would like to exchange for
other South American stamps. I have made a man with a basket on his
back from Wiggle 17, which I send.
EDWARD H. PALMER,
44 Schiffleutstaden, Strasburg, Germany.
Your Wiggle is excellent, and we are very sorry it arrived too late to
be printed with others.
* * * * *
I have noticed in the exchanges there are many who want birds'
eggs. It does not seem quite right to me, because if we take all
the eggs, we destroy all the birds. I will exchange shells and
pebbles from Lake Erie, for any curiosity except birds' eggs.
JESSIE G. SMITH,
327 West Fourth Street, Erie, Penn.
* * * * *
The following exchanges are also offered by correspondents:
Postmarks and stamps of all kinds.
GEORGE LINSCOTT,
Holton, Jackson County, Kansas.
* * * * *
Twenty-five postmarks, for five stamps from any country except
Europe, Canada, and the United States.
F. S. and B. S.,
P. O. Box 582, Lansing, Mich.
* * * * *
Dried ferns from the highest peaks of the Alleghanies, for pieces
of silk for a quilt.
LUCY SHARP, P. O. Box 73, Bridgeton, N. J.
* * * * *
Stamps.
SAMMY BEANS,
103 East Seventy-ninth Street, New York City.
* * * * *
Postmarks or stamps, for stamps.
JEROME G. EDDY, Lock Box 111, Geneva, N. Y.
* * * * *
A piece of Irish peat, for soil and seed from the far West or
South, especially cotton seed, or for a piece of lava.
D. ALLAN WEBER,
Searsport, Waldo County, Maine.
* * * * *
Stamps.
N. S. SCHWARZ,
105 East Seventy-ninth Street, New York City.
* * * * *
Postage stamps and postmarks, for stamps.
WILLIAM M. BEAMAN,
U. S. Naval Asylum, Philadelphia, Penn.
* * * * *
A Canadian coin, for five Montenegro stamps.
CHARLIE HUBBARD,
30 Pearl Street, New Haven, Conn.
* * * * *
Shells, for Indian relics.
AARON KING,
80 Ellison Street, Paterson, N. J.
* * * * *