way to the United States. Great hopes were felt that this, with the
American army, could capture the British in New York. The Count
d'Estaing, a brave and faithful man, was in command of the French. He
was very much attached to Lafayette, and had a father's love and a
soldier's admiration for the boy hero. He took greatly to the project of
capturing New York; but the water was not deep enough at the entrance to
the harbor to let his vessels enter. So it was concluded to undertake
the capture of Newport, on Rhode Island, where the British had a strong
garrison. Lafayette was sent forward with an advance guard to aid in the
enterprise, and after a rapid march of 240 miles reached the point of
meeting. Then commenced one of the most annoying and unpleasant chapters
of Lafayette's experience in America. The French fleet sailed out of
Newport to attack an English fleet which had just arrived. In the midst
of the fight, when victory seemed sure, a heavy storm arose, scattered
the French fleet, tore away masts and rudders, and left most of the
vessels helpless. The Count d'Estaing was deeply chagrined, and was
compelled to go to Boston for repairs to his fleet. Many of the American
officers were angry at this. General Sullivan, in a general order,
accused the French of having "abandoned" their allies. A protest against
the course of Count d'Estaing was drawn up and signed by the American
officers. Lafayette was indignant. He would not, of course, sign the
protest. He declared to General Sullivan that the slur cast on the Count
d'Estaing was a personal insult, and demanded an apology for it. This he
obtained. Then he started for Boston, to try to prevent any ill-feeling
there toward his countrymen. His letters to Washington at this time are
very long, and full of grief and shame that his countrymen should have
been so misunderstood. His feelings were expressed in the queerest of
English, but they were very sincere. Happily, Washington shared them.
Everything was done to keep the peace between the allies, and finally
with success. While he was in Boston Lafayette heard that a battle was
likely to take place at Newport, where the Americans had landed on the
north end of the island, and were attacked by the British. Lafayette
mounted his horse, and after riding eighty miles in less than eight
hours, reached the field in time to take an honorable part in the
retreat which had become necessary. All further operations with the
fleet appearing unlikely, he made up his mind to go back to France for a
while to join the French army, and fight in the war which seemed about
to take place on English soil.
A curious incident detained him. During the year 1778 Commissioners had
come over from England to offer terms of peace to Congress. But no terms
short of independence for the United States would be accepted. Lord
Carlisle was the chief of the Commissioners. In one of his letters he
warned the Americans not to trust the French, "whose perfidy was too
well known to need further proof." Lafayette's fiery blood boiled at
this insult to his nation. He straightway challenged Lord Carlisle to a
duel. "I demand of you," he wrote, "an apology as public as was the
insult. I hope to add to the glorious privilege of being a Frenchman
that of proving to one of your nation that mine can not be attacked with
impunity."
It was a foolish thing, this challenge. Lord Carlisle very properly
replied that he was responsible for his public words only to his
government. Washington, in the kindest manner, reminded Lafayette that
the chivalrous spirit he had shown was a little out of date, and might
make him seem ridiculous in the eyes of sensible men. Besides, even if
the duel were to be fought, chance rather than courage often decided
this sort of contests, and justice in no case was helped by the result.
He could not bear to see a life risked which should be kept for greater
and better service. And the brave old Count d'Estaing wrote earnestly to
Washington to put a stop to this boyish adventure, and not to permit
such a needless exposure of so precious a life.
Lafayette returned to France in the early part of 1779. He had left his
country in disgrace, under an order of arrest for disobedience to his
King. Even his friends had condemned his action as fool-hardy and
useless. Nearly all his family had joined in bewailing what they
regarded as the ruin of a promising career by enlisting in a hopeless
cause. He came back famous and honored. He had won high military rank,
and had proved himself, in the words of the American Congress in parting
with him, "wise in council, brave in battle, patient amid the fatigues
of war." The hopeless cause he had taken up was on the point of victory,
and the King who had ordered him to prison for joining it had become the
open ally of the new nation.
Lafayette was welcomed with open arms, and though still but twenty-one,
his advice was sought by both the American and French governments with
high respect. Still ardently devoted to the American cause, he sought
some opportunity to serve it. He planned first an expedition against the
wealthy commercial cities of the English coast, in which he was to
command the land-forces, and John Paul Jones, the gallant American
sailor who was to be so famous, was to command the fleet. When this fell
through, on account of the timidity of the French ministers, Lafayette
proposed an attack upon Canada, but this also was a failure. Then, with
characteristic independence and courage, he staked all his hopes on
getting money, a fleet, and an army for the United States. He had been
instructed by Congress not to ask for an army, for the Americans were
afraid of the jealousy which foreign troops would excite. But Lafayette
believed that a French army might arrive in the nick of time, and decide
the result of the war. The event proved that he was right. He returned
to America in April, 1780, a few weeks in advance of the French forces,
of the coming of which neither the English nor the Americans had any
suspicion. Then opened the last year of real war in the struggle for
independence. Lafayette was to take a great part in its events, and of
this we shall hear in the next chapter.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
A CHILD'S VICTORY.
BY C. H.
On the rug before the open fire sat Pussie, her head against her aunt's
knee, her Skye in her arms--a picture of content. After a silence of at
least two minutes she drew a long breath--so long that Aunt Kitty
laughed, and asked her what the matter was.
With a good deal of hesitation the little girl answered, in a very sad
voice, "Because it is almost time to go to bed."
"Pussie, why don't you like to go to bed?"
"Because--because-- I don't want to say."
"Then I will tell you why. Shall I, dear?"
"Oh, auntie, you don't know. You can not even guess why."
Aunt Kitty stooped over and whispered something, which had the effect of
bringing Pussie on her feet, as she exclaimed, "Why! how did you know?"
"I once was a little girl myself, dear."
"Oh yes, I know; but then you never felt as I feel about the dark."
"Don't be too sure of anything, little one. What should you say if I
told you that I found out your fear of the dark just because I used to
feel as you do now?"
Still incredulous, Pussie shook her head, saying, "But when did it go
away? You are not afraid of anything now?"
"Come here, and I will tell you," and taking the child on her knee, Aunt
Katherine told her this little story of her own life.
"When I was a child I was as timid as a hare. I was very shy; I did not
like strangers, and I did not care for companions of my own age. I was
perfectly happy with my mother and father and my beloved dolls. Now you
see you have the advantage of me, for you are not shy, you are fond of
little girls and boys, and then, too, you have your dogs and your pony.
Now I was so afraid of a dog that the sight of one, as far off as I
could see him, filled me with such terror that I instinctively drew up
my small legs, and then took to my heels. I was so afraid of a worm that
I have gone a whole block out of the way to avoid passing one. I am
afraid, Pussie, that I was a born coward, but nothing was so absolutely
awful to me as the dark. A familiar room was bad enough when unlighted,
but one that was unoccupied was to me the most truly horrible place that
could be conceived of. The windows, with their distinctly defined
sashes, were one of the most frightful features to me, and I remember
lying awake at night and seeing the four or eight white squares in the
darkness, and trembling with fear--of what I did not know." And Miss
Katherine heard a little murmur.
"Oh, auntie, it always frightens me so! I am glad it frightened you
too." And with a closer cuddle she said, "Please go on."
"Once my father spoke to me about it, reasoning with me most lovingly
and tenderly, never uttering one word of ridicule or of reproach,
telling me that no one else could help me in overcoming the dread of
darkness, but that I might conquer it myself. I used to wonder if I
should ever feel as he did about it, and be as brave as he was in every
way.
"Some little time passed away, and when I was about seven or eight years
old an idea flashed through my brain, and I will tell you what I did.
"It was just about this hour, between six and seven o'clock, and at this
season of the year, when I made up my mind to explore the whole house in
the dark. Sir John Franklin and Dr. Kane (you remember I was telling you
about them only last night?) could not have had a firmer conviction of
the dangers they were braving than I had at that moment. 'The Dark' was
quite as unknown a region to me as the north pole to them, and set thick
with terrible risks and perils; but having made up my mind to do it, the
possibility of retreat did not occur to me, for I remember I felt as if
it were a sort of duty, a promise to my father; so I walked out of the
room where all the family were sitting by the fire-light, and began to
go up the first flight of stairs in the back part of the
house--unlighted save by a ground-glass window, through which the hall
lamp threw a dim light. I had made up my mind to begin with the worst,
and went steadily up, one, two, three, four flights of stairs; the last
led to the attic, divided into two rooms--the outer one finished but
never occupied; the inner one unfinished, and each lighted by a window
in the roof, and communicating by a little door, so low that, small as I
was, I could not stand upright in passing through. In utter darkness I
climbed the steep stairs, closing the door at the foot, and at last
found myself groping my way into the inner attic through the door I have
just described. Then on my hands and knees I crawled under the eaves,
breathless and trembling; I left no corner unexplored. I remember going
back more than once, to be sure that I had not 'shirked.' In this way I
went into every room, crawling under every bed, which was an especial
horror to me; I don't know why--do you, Pussie?"
"Oh, auntie, it is dreadful under the beds!"
"But what is it you are afraid of? Are you afraid that some one is
concealed there who will hurt you?"
"No, indeed; I don't know _what_ it is, but I always feel that
_something_ is hidden there, auntie--something awful."
[Illustration: EXPLORING THE ATTIC--DRAWN BY JESSIE CURTIS.]
"Well, Pussie, so did I, and as I crawled out from each bed I felt that
I had had a narrow escape, expecting the next would reveal the dreadful
thing. And all this time the windows seemed to grin at me; but I thought
of my father, and of his telling me that I could 'conquer if I tried,'
and I went on, closing the door of every room as I went in, going
faithfully into every closet, and feeling with my hands under every
piece of furniture which was not set close to the floor. It was such a
long time to me! I felt as if I had not seen my father and mother for
hours; but at last I began to feel that I was near the end, and I recall
going back and exploring for the second time the unknown region under
the last bed, because I felt in my heart that I had not been honest
about it. I was conscious that the left corner nearest the window had
not been _really_ investigated. At last it was finished, and I can
remember how I felt when I opened the door of the room where the others
were laughing and talking, with bright lights and the fire--I can
remember my bewildered feeling, as if waking from sleep, and the
sensation of having been saved from something; and when my father put
his hand out to me and drew me to his side, asking where his little girl
had been all this time, and I cuddled up to him as you are doing now,
dearie, I was so happy as I whispered back so softly that none of the
rest could hear, 'I have been everywhere in the dark, under the beds and
all.' I shall never forget the look he gave me as he drew me closer to
him, and kissed me, whispering back, 'My brave little girl!' And when
by-and-by my mother's lovely eyes beamed upon me as she stooped and
kissed me, I felt quite repaid for all my distress; and, my darling, I
never afterward suffered in the same way. Of course I had little thrills
and panics, but lasting only for a moment. I could always send them away
when I thought of my father's kiss. If I have any courage, it is due to
my dear father's loving reasoning, to his patience and his sympathy."
Both arms were round Miss Katherine's neck, and Pussie said, gently,
"Auntie, I will try." And she did try, and did conquer her foolish fears
so thoroughly that the dark has lost all its terrors for her, and a
braver little girl can not be found in the country.
SEÑORITA CATITA MALTESA.
BY AMANDA SHAW ELSEFFER.
[Illustration]
Señorita Catita Maltesa
Declared there was nothing would please her
But the daintiest mouse
To be found in the house,
And that anything else would but tease her.
[Illustration]
Señor Don Tomaso Felini
And Señora the grand Grimalchini
Brought her cream in a dish,
But she only said, "Pish!"
With the air of a young Tigerini.
[Illustration]
Then they fried her a salmon in batter,
And brought her a cheese on a platter;
But she laughed them to scorn,
And she bade them begone,
Or her nerves they would certainly shatter.
[Illustration]
Then Señor and Señora were wroth,
And declared that from now and henceforth
Their cantankerous child,
Who had driven them wild,
Should have nothing but buttermilk broth.
[Illustration]
But a knight of the house of Angora,
Who had long been Catita's adorer,
Took her home to his house,
Brought the daintiest mouse,
And gallantly placed it before her.
[Illustration: OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.]
SOUTH BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS.
I am almost six years old. I had two lovely little kitties to play
with this summer. Their names were Ringy and Daisy. Their mother's
name was Diogenes Praxiteles Demosthenes Gosnold.
I have a velocipede and a railroad track. I almost cried when I
heard about poor "Coachy's" fate. I like HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE,
and I am always going to take it. I sent it to my little cousin in
Woonsocket for one year as a Christmas present, and he likes it
too.
FRANK GETCHELL N.
* * * * *
BAY CITY, MICHIGAN.
I have a pet kitty, and a bird named Cherry, but it does not sing.
A little baby friend of mine, when told that she must act like a
little lady, said she was not a little lady, but only a girl.
MAY C.
* * * * *
ALLEGHANY CITY, PENNSYLVANIA.
I love YOUNG PEOPLE. This year mamma paid for it, but next year I
am going to pay for it myself. I earned the money helping papa. We
all enjoy it. I read it aloud to mamma while she is sewing. I like
best the history of "Old Times in the Colonies," because it tells
so much about my country.
I have no pets now, for my dog Beauty and my bird Jenny both died.
I am nearly ten years old, and this is the second letter I ever
wrote to go by mail.
HOWARD K. M.
* * * * *
The following three letters are from three little boys, companion
scholars, in a school at Evansville, Indiana:
I will be nine years old on Thanksgiving-day, and hope to celebrate
my birthday by eating plenty of turkey and oysters.
We all brought a nickel to school, and had our teacher get
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE. I like it very much. We like to read the
letters the little boys and girls write, and hope you will print
ours.
JOHN A. J.
I am eight years old. I attend the public school, and am in the
Fifth Reader, A grade.
Our teacher reads HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE to us every Friday. We all
fight for the paper when it comes, for the pictures are so pretty!
WILLIE H.
I love to read the letters in YOUNG PEOPLE very much, and we all
love the stories.
I have a fine dog named Scout. He chewed up my hat. It was the
only one I had, so mother gave me money to buy a cap. I also have
a pet rooster, but he is sick. I gave him butter, as some one said
it would cure him.
CHARLIE D. M.
* * * * *
MUSCOGEE, INDIAN TERRITORY.
We are twin sisters only nine years old. Our mamma and papa take
HARPER'S WEEKLY for themselves, and YOUNG PEOPLE for us. We like it
very much, but we like the "Jimmy Brown" stories the best of all.
We see a great many Indians here, but they never hurt us. We saw
lots of blanket Indians go by when we were at Sunday-school this
morning. Their faces were all painted red and yellow.
We go to school, and study algebra, arithmetic, English history,
grammar, geography, Fifth Reader, and spelling. There are lots of
tamed little Indians go to the school. They are a great deal
better when they first come than they are after they have been
here a while.
We have a great many ponies. We ride a great deal, and have lots
of fun. We have no pets but our two little sisters and a black
cat. Our little sisters' names are Edith and Millie. They are one
and three years old. They are real cunning.
KATY and JESSIE W.
* * * * *
SMITHFIELD, NORTH CAROLINA.
The plant that Roscoe E. E. speaks of answers the description of
the cotton-plant exactly. I am pretty well acquainted with cotton,
for I live in the midst of a two-hundred-acre field, and sometimes
go out with my brothers, and pick it for amusement.
MATTIE P.
* * * * *
HUNTSVILLE, ALABAMA.
I thought I would write and tell you what a sweet, lovely pet I
have. It is a baby brother one month old. I am seven. I go to
school, and I love to go very much.
Mamma reads to me in YOUNG PEOPLE, and I am going to have it
bound.
EDWIN L. W.
* * * * *
MOUNT VERNON, NEW YORK.
We would like to tell Reba H. something that we think quite as odd
as peach blossoms in September. On the 9th of October we had nine
ripe strawberries brought to us from Columbia County, which grew
out on the vines. On October 20 we picked from a vine hanging over
the fence in our back yard a small china saucerful of beautiful red
raspberries of a delicious flavor, and on the 26th of the same
month nine more large ripe ones.
We are three little readers of YOUNG PEOPLE, who are very anxious
to find out who Paul Grayson is.
GERTY, WILL, and BERT.
* * * * *
ALDEN, MINNESOTA.
I send to subscribe to YOUNG PEOPLE for another year. I like it so
much! especially "Old Times in the Colonies."
I live on a farm in this cold State. There is a snow-drift in our
yard to-day (October 17) four feet deep.
I raised some early potatoes, and sold them to get money to pay
for my paper. I have a nice Berkshire pig to sell. He is a real
beauty.
I have a pony named Billy, and he and I have herded cattle part of
every day this fall, but we can not to-day, because of the
snow-storm.
I have saved all my papers, and mamma is going to put them in a
cover for me. I am almost nine years old.
ARTHUR G. W.
* * * * *
MOUNT HOLLY, VERMONT.
I am a little girl four and a half years old. Only a few weeks ago
I had a dear sister, who was, oh, so very kind to me! Now she is in
heaven with the angels, and I am so lonesome I don't know how I can
live. She was almost nine years old, and she used to be very happy
when YOUNG PEOPLE came, and would read all the pretty stories to
me, and tell me all about the pictures. We have had such nice times
together it makes me cry to tell you about it. In one corner of our
large yard we had a swing, and a little arbor close by among the
lilacs and rose-bushes. All our mud pies we made there, and our two
kitties, Pet and Jet, used to come every day to visit us. Rainy
days we had a room up stairs where we played school, kept store,
dressed our dolls, and did lots of other things. She used to play
on the piano, and she taught me to sing a different part from what
she sung. The last time she went to Sabbath-school she sung,
"Suffer the children to come unto Me" all alone. I have ever so
many things I want to tell you about her, but mamma is writing this
for me, and it makes her cry so she can't see.
Papa is going to get a binding for all of Nenna's YOUNG PEOPLE,
and have her name put on it. I am going to take it now. I want to
thank all the boys and girls for writing such nice letters.
MABEL M. A.
* * * * *
DALLAS CENTRE, IOWA.
I want to tell the Post-office Box something funny that one of our
hens did. We had an old hen that wanted to set in a box. In one end
of the box our old cat had three little kittens. The old hen left
her eggs, and would set on those kittens all the time. The old
mother cat did not like that much, so she moved her kittens to
another place. The old hen soon found the kittens, and set on them
again. Finally the cat concluded she would not be imposed upon in
that way, and she moved her kittens into a third place, where the
old hen could not find them.
ALBERT D. S.
* * * * *
DETROIT, MICHIGAN.
I have two brothers and two sisters, and we are very much obliged
to Mr. Harper for publishing such a nice paper for us.
We have a rabbit and a duck and three chickens for pets. The
chickens are very tame. They were hatched by artificial heat. So
was duckie. I had a pretty white kid last year, but it grew too
big for me to keep. I was born on St. Valentine's Day.
CAROLINE V. K.
* * * * *
BAY CITY, MICHIGAN.
I have a little sister two years old, and I think there could be no
nicer pet. I have a bird named Dick, and three kitties; but they
have no names, because two of them are so much alike that I can not
tell them apart.
I live near the mouth of the Saginaw River. I am twelve years old.
JESSIE M.
* * * * *
ATLANTA, GEORGIA.
I dearly love to read YOUNG PEOPLE. Papa says he thinks it is just
the best little paper for girls and boys he ever read, and so do I.
I want very much to know if Bessie Maynard went to Europe and
carried her doll Clytie.
Mamma's birthday is very soon, and we are all going to make her a
present, but I can't think what my present to her shall be. I wish
you would tell me something nice for a gift. I am eight years old.
FLORENCE D. F.
If you know how to embroider, even in plain cross stitch, work your
mamma a pincushion cover with her initial in the centre, or some other
pretty thing she can use. She will value the work of your little fingers
a thousand times more than anything you could buy for her.
* * * * *
HARTFORD, KENTUCKY.
I have taken YOUNG PEOPLE ever since it was published, and think I
shall take it always. I am ten years old. I go to school, but I
have been sick this week.
I had three pets last summer: a pretty green parrot; a sweet,
gentle ring-dove named Coocoo; and Willie, my canary. All are dead
now but Willie. I took good care of them, but they would die.
We have nice times now getting hickory nuts, and it is such fun to
hunt them among the brown leaves. I am learning to ride. My horse
is named Frank.
ISABELLE MCH.
* * * * *
MASSILLON, OHIO.
I am ten years old, and having no brothers or sisters I find a
great deal of company, as well as comfort, in my dear little paper.
I like every part of it. How I did enjoy reading the story of
Bessie and her pet hen Coachy, although it made me cry. But I was
not the only one in our house who cried over it. Then there is Paul
Grayson. I can hardly wait to know more about him.
Last night, after ten o'clock, a company of boys passed our house
making a great deal of noise and talking very improperly. I wished
they had HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, so that they might find more
pleasure in staying at home to read than they could find on the
street.
MINNIE E. M.
* * * * *
I am making a collection of postage stamps, and would like to
exchange with the readers of YOUNG PEOPLE.
LOUIS C. LEROY, JUN.,
226 Fifth Street, New York City.
* * * * *
I would like to exchange foreign stamps, minerals, and fossils for
other minerals and fossils.
ORMOND PERLEY,
P. O. Box 466, Emporia, Kansas.
* * * * *
I have a lot of one, two, three, six, fifteen, and ninety cent
Treasury Department stamps, which I wish to exchange for stamps of
the Navy and Agricultural departments.
R. L. PRESTON,
P. O. Box 327, Lynchburg, Virginia.
* * * * *
I would like to exchange petrified moss and iron ore with any
correspondents for sea-shells or relics. I can get moss in three
stages, when it is just beginning to petrify, when it is half
petrified, and when it is wholly so. Correspondents will please
mark distinctly anything they may send me, and state the locality
from which it came.
JOHN H. BARTLETT, JUN.,
P. O. Box 8, Greensburg, Green County, Kentucky.
* * * * *