end of the game, and as I am not certain which side the sympathies of my
readers are with, I shall not say. Some of them will, I hope, some day
be "reds" or "blues," and then they will enjoy in reality the rush and
excitement of the game, and taste the sweets of victory on many a
hard-fought field.
A PINCUSHION.
[Illustration: FIG. 1.--A PINCUSHION.--[See Fig. 2.]]
[Illustration: FIG. 2.--COVER OF PINCUSHION, FIG. 1.]
Some little girl may like to make a pincushion, perhaps for mamma, or to
leave slyly on sister's toilette table, where she will see it the first
thing Christmas morning. Look attentively at our picture, and then go to
the scrap-bag, and search for two pretty pieces. They need not be alike;
in our cushion the bottom is garnet velvet, and the top cream-colored
satin. Velvet, silk, and satin are nice materials to use, but any
strong, serviceable woollen fabric will do just as well. Cut them
square, and take two pieces of strong muslin of the same size for inside
lining. Lay them over one another, first a piece of lining, then the two
outside pieces, and lastly the second piece of lining. Then sew them
firmly together on three sides. Clip away the corners outside the seam.
Then turn the whole right side out, and stuff it. Sawdust is very good
for this purpose. Pack in very tightly just as much of it as you can
make it hold. Then turn in the edges of the fourth side, and overseam
them neatly and firmly. Put some pretty tassel fringe, in colors to
match, around the edge, and your cushion is finished. A handy little
girl will know how to make the fringe of remnants of bright-colored
wool. For those of our girls that know something of embroidery we give
in Fig. 2 a pretty pattern in which to work the top. The cream-colored
top of our cushion is decorated in this manner with olive and dark red
silk; the olive is used for the little sprays, the stems, and the
outside of the rose-buds, and the red for the heart of the bud. It looks
very pretty, and the work is really of the simplest kind. If you will
turn back to your last year's volume of YOUNG PEOPLE, and look at some
of the articles on embroidery for girls, by Miss Susan Hayes Ward, you
will find directions for embroidering which will help you very much in
decorating the top of your cushion.
[Illustration]
THE OWL AND THE BAT.
BY PALMER COX.
Oh, lively was the group of birds that met on Beaver Flat
The night on which the hooting owl was wedded to the bat!
It was a sight that summer night to see them gather there;
Some came by water, some by land, and others through the air.
The eagle quit the mountain-peak to mix with meaner fowl,
And like a comrade act the part of groomsman to the owl;
The friendly stork had hastened there with long and stately stride;
It was its happy privilege to give away the bride.
[Illustration]
And when arrangements were complete, a circle wide they made,
And in the centre stood the pair, in finest dress arrayed.
Then out in front advanced the crow, and bowed his shining head,
And with three loud approving caws declared the couple wed.
[Illustration]
Then kind congratulations poured from friends on every side,
As thronging round the happy pair, they kissed the blushing bride.
And soon the supper was prepared, for each had brought a share.
The crow and jay had carried corn; the eagle brought a hare;
[Illustration]
The curlew brought a string of fish just taken from the lake;
The crane, a brace of speckled frogs; the buzzard brought a snake;
The owl and active hawk procured a dozen mice, at least;
The snipe and rail brought water-flies to help along the feast.
[Illustration]
And when each bird upon the ground enjoyed a hearty meal,
They whistled tunes, and sang their songs, or danced a lively reel.
Around the green with stately mien the dodo and curlew
Moved like a pair of lovers there through dances old and new,
[Illustration]
While wing to wing and toe to toe, with loud and joyous cries,
The stork and raven danced as though competing for a prize.
That night good feeling was restored between the hawk and jay,
Who had not passed a friendly look or word for many a day;
[Illustration]
And birds that always went to roost before the shades of night
Now hopped around upon the ground until the morning light.
And people long will call to mind the scene on Beaver Flat
The night on which the hooting owl was wedded to the bat.
[Illustration: HIS FIRST LETTER.]
OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.
We have very great pleasure in publishing a letter from the kind lady
who has charge of the ward in which our Young People's Cot will be
placed when sufficient money shall have been contributed to endow it. We
think that perhaps after reading this letter, with its touching
description of the ward, and suggestive account of the manner in which
the little sick children play at nursing their dolls, some of you who
have not yet done so may like to give a Christmas offering to aid this
good work. When we shall be so happy as to hear that the cot is really
ours, we will take a special interest in the little ones who may occupy
it.
ST. MARY'S FREE HOSPITAL FOR CHILDREN,
407 WEST THIRTY-FOURTH STREET, NEW YORK,
_November_, 1881.
MY DEAR YOUNG PEOPLE,--It has been suggested to me that you would
like to hear something of the "Holy Innocents' Ward" from one who
knows all about it. Now I certainly "know all about it," for I see
it at almost every hour of the day, and very often at different
hours of the night. But whether I can say what will be of interest
to you is to me a very doubtful question. You have already been
told who furnished the ward; but I wonder how many have really seen
it, and know just what it is like? I am _sure_ that some of you
have, but for the benefit of those who live far away, I will give a
little description; and when We come to tell of your own cot, you
will have perhaps a better understanding as to its place in the
ward, etc., etc.
The "Holy Innocents' Ward," then, is a long room, with two large
windows at either end reaching almost from the ceiling to the
floor. Outside of these windows are piazzas, where in warm weather
the little ones can sit in their tiny rocking or arm chairs, and
listen to the "moosic man" or shake hands with a favorite monkey
who climbs up on the outside of the house, and to whom they always
give a few pennies, and a drink from one of their own mugs.
In cold weather the children--those who are able to be up, of
course--can sit close to the windows inside, and see all that is
taking place in the street. On either side of the ward are rows of
blue cribs with brass knobs on the corners, and hanging over each
crib is a little blue frame holding a card, on which is written the
name of the child who sleeps in the cot. Between each crib is a
small square table with a shelf underneath. The shelves of these
tables are for toys, and the tops are used for a great many
different purposes. Sometimes you would find on one of them a tiny
red tray holding a cup of milk-punch, on another a glass of
flowers, or at times a queer-looking deep tray, in which are kept
lint, bandages, plaster, etc. In addition to the tables beside the
beds, each crib has a little table that stands on it--something
like a butler's tray, with four legs, only the little ledge is
around three sides instead of four. These "bed-tables," as they are
called, can be put close up to the children, and were intended to
hold the toys, scrap-books, and the blocks out of which are built
most marvellous houses, that come down with a terrible "bang"--the
louder the better, (Occasionally a small child has been discovered
sitting on one of these little tables; but that, of course, is "out
of order," although it may be a good symptom of returning health.)
There is still another table, that stands on the floor, and around
which several children can sit and play together; sometimes--in
fact, often-times--the favorite play is "Hospital"; and I have
often seen _very_ sick dolls, who are treated in the most skillful
manner. They are probed and bandaged, have their pulses and
temperatures taken, are given "mick-punce" and "q'nine," have
weights tied to their feet, and poultices on their chests. The ward
also contains a small organ and a large music-box, and around the
walls are several pretty pictures. Now can you see it all?--the
long room; the blue cribs with brass knobs; the little ones in bed
with bright red jackets on; those able to be up sitting in the tiny
chairs, and wearing gray wrappers bound with red, and fastened with
red buttons; the sun shining through the long windows on the little
ones sitting near or at the "play table," and perhaps just lighting
up "Young People's Cot"; the little organ, the music-box, and the
pictures? I hope so; and when I write again, I will tell you just
where your own cot is.
S.
* * * * *
TERRA CEIA ISLAND.
I am a little girl from New York who came to this beautiful island
a year ago in October with mamma for her health. The climate is
lovely, and has benefited mamma very much, for which I feel repaid,
and am willing to be away from other children for her sake. There
are only two little children besides myself on the island, and
sometimes weeks pass and I do not see a child's face. We live in
the midst of a beautiful orange grove, and have one of the largest
and handsomest-looking orange-trees in the State. Last year it bore
4200 oranges; this year not as many. Others of our trees are
bearing from 800 to 2000 each. We have fine bananas, figs in their
season, guavas, plums, lemons, and other fruits of which we are
very fond. The ivory-billed woodpecker steals our figs, and the
pretty, naughty redbirds pick all the fruits and vegetables. Meat
is scarce here sometimes, and my uncle has to shoot the quails or
the pink curlews, with their beautiful spoon-bills, and the blue
herons, with their lovely large human-looking eyes. We must
sometimes have them to take the place of fresh meat, but not often,
as uncle dislikes killing the beautiful birds, which never do any
one any harm. The redbirds sing sweetly. The little phoebe-birds
call "Phoebe" all day long. The mocking-birds are the first to
sing in the morning, and the last at night. In the summer the
quails say, "Bob White," "Bob White." The beautiful gray mourning
doves come around a little later, and at night a bird that takes
the place of the Northern whip-poor-will calls out, "Whip the
widow," in the same strain as the whip-poor-will. I am very fond of
my island home. There is a beautiful bay that our grove and house
front on, called Terra Ceia Bay, about five miles long, and in some
places nearly two miles wide. I have a small row-boat that I go out
in with mamma, and sometimes I stand in the stern of the boat, with
a long pole, and pole the boat in shallow water. The beautiful
sunsets we see on the water sometimes make me wish other children
could enjoy natural scenery and the wonders of the sky as I see
them here. We have very fine fish called mullet that are caught
with a cast net, besides other kinds, clams, and oysters.
I have four cats, named Punch and Judy (because I thought those
names different to others in general) and Beauty and Topsy, and a
dog named Jip. One day Jip was barking furiously, and we went to
see what was the matter, and for the first time he saw himself in
the looking-glass. We had a hearty laugh.
Another day he made a great deal of noise when a praying mantis,
shaped similar to our large Southern grasshoppers, but with a waist
similar to a wasp, instead of its being on all four legs, was
standing up straight, with its fore-legs raised in an attitude of
devotion, looking right at the dog. When we came, it turned around
with its head, just like a Shaker woman, and looked first at one of
us and then at the other, without moving its body.
I was so interested in "Toby Tyler," and knowing that Mr. Otis must
like children, and as you say he is now through our State
travelling in his little steam-yacht, please give him an invitation
to call on us and eat some of our fine oranges, as we will have
them until April. Aunt and uncle and mamma join in the invitation.
He--that is, Mr. Otis--can sail from Key West or Cedar Keys into
the Gulf of Mexico, then into Tampa Bay, into the mouth of Manatee
River, through the cut-off into our Terra Ceia Bay. Or he could
keep in the Manatee River to Palma Sola, at the Warner Mill, and
they could show him through the small cut-off into our bay. We are
very hospitable, and have wanted to see him ever since he wrote
"Toby Tyler," and about his pet bird.
I was afraid Jimmy Brown was on a long vacation. So long as he has
to be in so much trouble, please ask him to tell his tales of woe
oftener, and relieve his mind.
Sometimes I go over to Manatee after my paper with my uncle. We go
in a sail-boat, and I enjoy sailing so much! I wanted to have a
little vegetable garden of my own, so uncle let me have a patch,
and I set out fifty tomato plants, just to see what a little girl
could do; they are growing finely, and putting on blossoms now--not
all, but part of them.
Mamma teaches me, as there is no school near us short of six miles,
and I would have to go in a sail-boat to attend school. I have most
of my time taken up, as mamma teaches me to be industrious, and
wishes me to try to grow up a smart girl, as it would have pleased
papa so much, had God permitted him to live and know his little
girl was trying to do right.
FLORENCE M. BREWSTER,
P. O. Braidentown, Manatee Co., Fla.
* * * * *
The verses which follow were sent by a little reader:
THE CHRYSANTHEMUM'S SONG TO THE MOON.
I stand in a little box
At a lowly cottage door;
I grow and grow and grow and grow
Till I can grow no more.
My leaves are the brightest green,
My flowers the purest white,
Of any flowers you've ever seen,
O Moon, so large and bright.
O Moon up there so high,
As you nightly roll along,
Please don't forget me in my box
As I sing my little song.
ANNIE L. C.
* * * * *
MILFORD, CONNECTICUT.
I wrote a letter once before, but it wasn't published. I know you
can not publish all the letters that are sent you. I thought I
would try again. My brother has two pet owls. He feeds them on raw
meat. They are very pretty. At some times they look very small, and
at other times they stick their feathers out and look like a ball
of feathers. Their eyes are very large; they have two eyelids. The
under one is so thin that they can see through it. The upper one is
covered with little feathers. Besides raw meat, they eat mice. We
catch them alive, and when we put one in the cage, one of the owls
will jump on it, and catch it in his claws, and bite it in the back
of its neck, and kill it. He then tears pieces off, and eats them.
We have some bantams. The old bantam hen lays her eggs in the
corner of the kitchen in a basket. Last spring she sat on six eggs
in the basket in the kitchen, and hatched five chickens, but one of
them died, so we have only four now.
JULIA B. S.
* * * * *
ST. JOHN'S, MICHIGAN.
I want to tell you about an adventure that happened in Florida last
winter. A gentleman and a boy went up Dunn's Lake on a fishing
expedition. When they got as far as Haw Creek they found that
alligators were plenty there, having come out to sun themselves, as
is their custom in the early spring. Mr. Lee succeeded in shooting
a good-sized one, about twelve feet long, and after much trouble he
was got into the boat; but as he took up so much room, one of the
men had to sit upon the alligator, supposing him to be dead, of
course. They rowed as fast as possible toward town, but had not
gone far when his 'gatorship gave a mighty jump, throwing the man
up into the air, and nearly overturning the boat. However, they
reached the town in safety, and hauled him up on the dock, where he
lay for some time on exhibition to an admiring crowd. My friend
John, being of an inquiring turn of mind, leaned over the animal to
take a close inspection of him, when he gave a flop with his tail
which knocked John quite over.
This is a true story, and I hope it will be printed.
ROBERT E. C.
* * * * *
Sometimes letters reach Our Post-office Box in rather a roundabout way.
For instance, the other day we opened an envelope bearing the post-mark
Orange, Los Angeles County, California. We found in it a letter from a
gentleman living there, who sends HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE to a little
cousin in Dublin, and she and several of her school-mates had sent a
budget of letters to him for their favorite paper. We can make room for
only one, though all were pleasant little letters for a Post-office Box
to receive:
CLONTARF, DUBLIN, IRELAND.
I am in school. I have a sister who is married in America, and my
brother-in-law sends me HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE. I have two little
nephews, one just four years old, and the other two. I have a
number of dolls, and a very playful little kitten only a few weeks
old. His whole name is Prince Albert Victor, but we call him Prince
for short. My home is in Ireland, and very near the sea, and I am
eleven years old. I hope my letter will reach the Post-office Box.
LOUISA E. A. E.
Louisa may tell Molly W. K. and Lillie R. that we appreciate their
compliments, and are sure they must have a very delightful time at
school. We never before heard of a dog that was fond of sugar, though we
once saw a cat that ate pea-nuts.
* * * * *
CHERRY VALLEY, MASSACHUSETTS.
I am a little boy twelve years old, and was born with but one hand.
I am writing with my left hand. I attend school, and am trying to
be a good scholar. I have a nice large Newfoundland dog, and I
think the world of him. We play together a great deal. My papa was
a soldier in the army for three years, and now belongs to the Grand
Army. I have a great many books which papa has bought for me. I
have no brothers nor sisters, three brothers having died. I ride
horseback often after school is over. I have a nice saddle and
bridle.
WILLIS J. B.
* * * * *
BROOKLYN, NEW YORK.
You wanted us all to tell you about vacation, and I will do so now
if it is not too late. I spent mine at Red Bank, N. J. The place
where we boarded was terraced right down to the Shrewsbury River.
There was a little dock, and a boat which we could use whenever we
wanted it. One day we all went fishing, and mamma caught three ugly
toad-fish. The jelly-fish look very graceful and pretty as they
float through the water, but we used to bathe every day at high
tide, and sometimes they stung us very badly. We went in after dark
sometimes, and when we splashed the water it looked like fire. One
day I fell off the dock; it did not hurt me, but my clothes and
shoes were not worth bringing home. Another boy fell off one Sunday
morning, just after his mother had dressed him in all his best
clothes to meet some company who were coming from New York to spend
the day. We used to ride every day. All of the roads are good, but
one, to Seabright, is so level, and has such beautiful residences,
hedges, miniature lakes, etc., it was almost like driving through a
park.
One evening two young men rowed some young ladies to their home,
about three miles up the river. The young men started home about
ten o'clock. As the night was very dark, they had a lantern. When
they got about half way, one of them wanted to smoke, and as they
had no matches, he opened the lantern to light his cigar. A puff of
wind blew out the light. They could see nothing at all, but they
rowed patiently on, until they felt sure they must be near home.
Just then they heard some one shout, "Boat ahoy!" so they pulled
in, very thankful to be at home. One of them said, "Is this _our_
dock?"
"Dunno," said the man: "this is _Smith's_ dock." Then he put his
lantern close, so he could see them, and shouted, "Blessed if you
ain't the fellers what left here two hours ago!"
They had somehow got turned round and gone back. I think they paid
the boatman something to keep quiet to the girls, but they had such
a discouraged look next morning that I felt glad I was only a
little boy.
PERCY L. MCD.
* * * * *
C. Y. P. R. U.
V. O. found dandelions lifting their cheery little faces to the autumn
sunshine in Central Park on November 20. Did any one else see the dear,
sturdy little flower so late? When its golden disks star the meadows in
spring, we always give it a welcome. It seems even brighter when it
blooms on the edge of frost and cold in the fall.
* * * * *
CIBBY C.--Your little story is very nicely written, and if you persevere
you will very likely succeed in composing better stories when you shall
be older.
* * * * *
The Postmistress thinks you will like to read the following extracts
from the diary of a boy who spent his summer abroad. The glimpses of
other lands which we obtain through the bright eyes of youthful
travellers are very charming to those who stay at home:
NOTES BY THE WAY.
_Paris, September_ 23, 1881.--We had a drive across the Seine River
to the Hôtel des Invalides. We walked through the great court-yard,
and went into the chapel, where the old soldiers have service. We
met an old soldier coming out of it, and asked him if we could see
Napoleon's tomb. (A great many battle-flags hung in the chapel.) He
told mother where to go, and called her _ma fille_ when he talked
to her. The tomb was made of beautiful red marble, and there were
statues all around it.
Then we drove to the old Cathedral of Notre Dame. I never supposed
a cathedral could be so beautiful. We all went inside; it was dimly
lighted, and there were little chapels all about on the two sides
of the cathedral, and we saw the "rose-windows," and heard the
bells ringing out the hour.
We then went to the Palais de Justice, and into the Sainte
Chapelle, and up the narrow, winding stair to the second story. We
had a beautiful time.
_September_ 25, 1881.--A French lady came to see mamma. She had
taught mamma years ago, and so mamma arranged for her to give us
French lessons each day, and we like it very much.
We have been to the Louvre, and I saw two landscapes, painted by an
artist whose name was Claude Lorraine; they looked very real, and
were beautifully painted. They were in the Salon Carre; and in a
room, out of it, I saw a picture of the three wise men of the East
bringing the baby Jesus gold, frankincense, and myrrh; it was
called the "Adoration of the Magi," and was so soft and
old-looking! We staid a long time at the Louvre. The next day we
saw the "Siege of Paris," a very real-looking and life-like
panorama picture.
After that mamma took us to see the paintings of artists who are
now living. These paintings are in the Palais de Luxembourg. I
liked best Rosa Bonheur's oxen ploughing in a field; a flock of
sheep, by Jacque; an old tree, by Diaz; and a little old church, by
Millet. We had a delightful time.
_October_ 3, 1881.--We left Paris by rail to Boulogne, then crossed
the Channel to Folkestone, and then to London, which we reached at
midnight. Our trunks had to be got through the Custom-house. We had
written for rooms, and were glad to get into comfortable beds and
go to sleep. From London we made our way to Liverpool for our ship.
We had a stormy voyage home, were out thirteen days, had to pay
heavy duties on the few clothes we brought home, and now our summer
trip is over.
HARRY G.
BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS.
* * * * *
FRANK C. F.--The better way for you will be to take your gun to a
gunsmith, and not risk spoiling it by trying to mend it yourself. Black
walnut is preferred for the stock of a gun.
Your question about the word Titan involves a reference to the mythology
of the Greeks. The Titans were the fabled sons and daughters of Uranus
and Gæa. Rebelling against their father, they were hurled from their
dwelling-place in heaven, and after protracted struggles, were forced
into a cavity below Tartarus. The secondary meaning of the word is
gigantic, the Titans having been very strong and almost unconquerable.
In these old myths the forces of nature are represented under the
symbolism of poetry, and you will easily see that the Titans, being the
children of Uranus (heaven) and Gæa (earth), were endowed with wonderful
and magical gifts.
* * * * *
We would call the attention of the C. Y. P. R. U. to the very
interesting historical article, by Mr. George Cary Eggleston, entitled
"A War for an Archbishop," describing the strange manner in which the
Christian religion was introduced into the great empire of Russia; the
article entitled "Spitzbergen," by Mr. Barnet Phillips, describing the
visit made to that island by the officers and crew of the United States
steam-ship _Alliance_ during their search for the missing _Jeannette_;
and the pleasant description of foot-ball by Sherwood Ryse, whose
articles on games have found so much favor with our boy readers.
* * * * *