Although the amusements of the girls are very few, sometimes_Harper's Young People, June 14, 1881 An Illustrated Weekly

treated to a simple entertainment, such as a Punch-and-Judy show, which

they enjoy much more heartily than children who are accustomed to seeing

such things very often. In fact, you can see that one of the little

girls in the picture is represented as laughing so loudly that the

Sister who stands beside her touches her on the shoulder, and tells her

that such loud and boisterous mirth is not lady-like nor becoming.

THE DAISY COT.

A STORY IN TWO PARTS.

BY MISS LILLIAS C. DAVIDSON.

PART I.

It was in a children's hospital. All down the long ward ran two rows of

little iron bedsteads, each covered with its own red quilt with the

white cross in the middle; but one cot was different from all the rest.

It was all of shining brass, to begin with, and it had a little canopy,

which none of the others had, and pretty soft curtains of pale blue,

with a pattern of white daisies scattered all over them; even the bands

that caught back the curtains were wreaths of daisies; and the dainty

blue coverlet had the bright little flowers raised on it so naturally

that you wanted to try and gather them.

Just opposite it, on the wall, hung a picture of little fleecy lambs,

and the Good Shepherd carrying the smallest and weakest in His arms; and

the frame of the picture was of daisies too. All down the walls of the

ward there hung bright pictures, but none was so pretty as this, and it

hung just where any one lying in the cot could see it best.

Everybody in the whole hospital knew the Daisy Cot and its story: and

the nurses had to tell it half a dozen times a day, sometimes; for every

fresh visitor who came into the girls' ward was sure to say: "What a

pretty little bed! What makes it so different from the others?" And then

the Sister (they called the nurses "Sisters" there) would tell how the

cot and the picture had once belonged to a dear little girl named Daisy,

and how, when the angels came and took her away from this world, her

heart-broken mother could not bear to look at the empty bed, but sent it

here, that some poor sick child might always use it, and stay in it

until she was quite well again. More than once, before Sister Theresa's

simple tale was done, a bright round drop fell quietly down among the

daisies, for some of the visitors were mothers themselves, and couldn't

help thinking of the precious babies at home.

One day there was a small excitement all down the ward. Heads popped up

from one bed after another, and black eyes and blue exchanged signals,

while half a dozen shrill voices at once called across to each other:

"Oh, I say, just look here! There's a new Daisy in the cot."

So there was; and such a queer little flower this time! A tiny, tiny

girl, with a white still face--as white as any of the daisies on the

quilt--and such a wonderful head of tight red-gold curls as none of them

had ever seen in all their lives.

"Daisies oughtn't ter have red hair," said one small damsel, with a

great idea of the eternal fitness of things.

"Oughtn't they?" laughed the Doctor, who was busy tying a card to the

brass rail at the foot of the cot, with the new Daisy's name, and her

illness, and the food she was to have, written on it. "But I've seen

daisies with red tips in Scotland, I can tell you. All the same, I like

the big white ones better. There, nurse," he went on, as Sister

Theresa's noiseless step drew near, "there's your new patient; Mercy

Trafford is her name, and I shouldn't wonder if a story went with it.

What did the people say who brought her in?"

"Yes, there is a story, and a sad one too," said the sweet-voiced

Sister. "It seems her mother died last winter, and her father, a poor

artist, was killed in a street accident a few weeks ago. Since that, the

people in the house where she was have taken some sort of care of her,

until last night, when the place caught on fire, and she was just saved

from death, poor baby! But there must have been a fall, you know, to

account for that broken leg, and the other injuries."

"Humph!" said the Doctor. It was rather a favorite exclamation of his,

and had earned him, with some of his lady patients, the character of

being a regular bear; but the bear had a warm and tender heart under his

great rough coat, and the smallest baby in the hospital would look up in

his face with a laugh, and try to snatch at his shaggy locks, as he bent

over its crib.

Many, many long days went by before the new Daisy could do anything but

lie with closed eyes and a drawn white face. Ah! those were weary,

sorrowful days; and sometimes they began to fear the poor wee mite would

never run about again, and that made them very sad, for her sweet,

patient little ways had taught them all to love her. But at last there

came a day when the Doctor looked less grave, and the Sisters nodded to

each other over the cot, and said, "I really think she'll do now, do you

know?" And then, at last, two big blue eyes opened wide, and a sweet

high voice was heard to say, "Oh, please, I _is_ so hungry!"

I don't know why they should all have accepted her from that very moment

as the pet of the ward, but so they did; and never did Queen reign with

more gracious dignity than did Miss Mercy.

Not that she went by that name, however; for the very first time any one

ventured to call her by it, she answered, with stately emphasis, "I not

Mercy now; I Daisy." So Daisy it became with everybody from that time

forth--except the Doctor, that is.

"You a Daisy?" he said, standing before her, with both hands in his

pockets. "Fiddlesticks! you're nothing but a white mouse. Mercy's a

mistake--it's Mousie;" and Mousie he persisted in calling her.

[Illustration: THE NEW DAISY.]

It was not long before she began to catch up the little story she heard

so often about her own cot, and "_My_ lady, my _tind_ lady," became her

great interest and topic of conversation. She tied up her handkerchief

into something like a doll, and called it "my pitty lady," and she would

lie and talk to it by the hour together in low cooing tones. Her

picture, in its daisy frame, was a great delight too; she had a name for

each of the fleecy lambs, and wished them all "dood-morning" as soon as

she awoke, in that clear ringing voice of hers. So sweet a voice it was,

and so like a bird's, that the Sisters used to declare it was like

listening to an angel to hear her sing grace; and you would sometimes

see a Sister in white cap and apron speeding down a passage with

suspiciously wet eyes, murmuring "Bless her!" as the last "Amen" sounded

through the wards.

Christmas-eve came, and with it a grand stir and bustle in the hospital:

something was going to happen, though nobody quite knew what. Many and

varied were the surmises. "I guess it's going to be real bears and lions

from the show," said one girl, who was blessed with a rich imagination;

but several nervous little patients shrieked so energetically at the

idea that she hastily added, "But perhaps they'll be dead and stuffed."

Curiosity had full swing, for each bed had been carefully shut in all

day by its own folding-screen, and not a glimpse could be got, even

through the cracks, of what was going on in the middle of the room.

[Illustration: DR. SANTA CLAUS.]

But at last, when the gas was lit, the Doctor's voice was heard to give

a word of command, and all the screens were folded up as if by magic,

while a cry of wonder and delight burst from every mouth. The walls were

all festooned with evergreens and paper roses, and in the midst there

rose a Christmas tree, the most magnificent and imposing tree any of

them had ever beheld, lit up with countless brilliant candles, hung with

toys and beautiful glittering things, and presided over by-- _Could_ it

be the Doctor? Oh no; it was a real Santa Claus, who had borrowed the

Doctor's voice for that evening only. And with what delightful jokes and

funny speeches did he unfasten the strange, beautiful fruit from its

tree, and distribute it to the rows of eager, excited little people!

There was a present for everybody--even the Sisters were not forgotten;

and when all the laughing and rejoicing had begun to subside, and tea

came in on the tiny wooden trays, there was not only the usual mug of

milk and the well-known pile of bread and butter, but real poached eggs,

and actual baked apples too!

As for the little Daisy, she had, besides the toys from the tree, a box

of great golden oranges, and a perfectly lovely doll, with eyes that

opened and shut, and a head that turned round; and box and dolly were

labelled, "For the Daisy Cot, from E. M. B."; and as she had already

begun to know from past experience of similar gifts, "E. M. B." was "my

_tind_ lady."

Long, long after tea was eaten and cleared away, and the ward tidied up

and settled for the night, wee Mercy's blue eyes were still wide open,

as she lay with the queer shining rings of red-gold hair pressed into

her white pillow. The fact was that the busy brain wouldn't go to sleep;

for Mercy was trying with all her baby might to think of something she

could give the lady who had been so "_tind_" to her. But she had nothing

of her own--not a single thing; and while impossible visions of dolls

and candy and all the possessions which seemed to herself most desirable

flitted through her mind, she grew wearier and still more weary, until

at last they all ended in the land of dreams.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

[Illustration: SCRAPING ACQUAINTANCE.--DRAWN BY S. G. MCCUTCHEON.]

BITS OF ADVICE.

BY AUNT MARJORIE PRECEPT.

ABOUT GETTING UP IN THE MORNING.

There are two things that all the boys and girls are fully agreed upon.

One is, that bed-time always comes too soon, and the other, that Bridget

rings the rising bell shamefully early. Getting up in the morning is a

great trial to many of us. We feel so rested and comfortable, and yet so

uncommonly sleepy. It seems as though our eyes would never come really

wide open, and as for dressing, it is a labor that is appalling. Oh for

a good fairy to touch us with her wand, and set us, bright and resolute,

right out into the middle of the morning!

The way to get up in the morning is just to do it promptly. The moment

you are called, decide at once to rise. Do not wait until mother's

gentle voice is tired, and Sister Lucy has determined that she will not

call you again, and father comes to the foot of the stair, and calls,

very seriously, "William!" "Ebenezer!" "Rebecca!" and you feel that you

must rise in a hurry. Do not put off getting up until you can hardly

take time to match buttons and hooks, and you can not find which strings

belong to each other, and suspenders snap, and buttons fly off boots,

and things are generally crooked.

When first you rise, let your thoughts go to God in thankfulness that

you are alive and well, and ready to begin another day. Then wash from

head to foot, with a sponge and cold water, and dry yourself with a

rough crash towel, or take a rub with a stiff flesh-brush. You will feel

quite warm and glowing after this exercise, which is the better for

being rapidly performed. Dress so neatly and entirely, to the last touch

of shoe polish and the last flourish of the hair-brush, that you need

think no more about your dress all day. Be sure to attend to your teeth.

They are good servants, and have so much work to do that they deserve to

be carefully looked after, not with irritating powders, but with a clean

brush, pure water, and occasionally a dash of white Castile soap.

[Illustration: OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.]

LONDON, ENGLAND.

I am one of a large party, and we sailed in the Cunard steamer

_Atlas_ from Boston for Liverpool, April 23, at 4 P.M. Our friends

stood on the wharf till we could see them no longer, and they had

brought us flowers, grapes, eggs, and fresh butter, which we shared

with our fellow-travellers.

The next day was Sunday, and the ship's surgeon read the morning

service in the saloon, the sailors dressed up clean and came in,

and we sang "Greenland's icy mountains" and "Nearer my God to

Thee."

Not many passengers could come to dinner after the first day, for

the sea grew rough, the ship rolled, the dish-racks (called the

"fiddle") were put on, and the people were pale and seasick. In a

few days they began to come out again; and having good weather, we

saw the coast of Ireland May 3. When we stopped at Queenstown we

sent up the Stars and Stripes, the English flag, and the flag of

the Cunard Line on our mainmast.

The next day we reached Liverpool. Our trunks were lifted out of

the hold, and we landed at 8 o'clock A.M. by a tug, and in a rain.

The custom-house officers examined the luggage, and we drove to a

hotel. We were glad to get rid of ship clothes, have our baths, and

go early into real beds.

In Liverpool we saw St. George's Hall, and the statues of Queen

Victoria and the Prince Consort Albert, and the lions on the gates.

Hansoms were driving in the streets, and tulips were blooming.

The next day, May 5, we started for London, and I will tell about

it in my next letter.

HARRY G.

* * * * *

FARMER CITY, ILLINOIS.

My school was out last week, and I with some other boys have been

sprouting potatoes for my uncle Sam, to earn some spending money. I

earned one dollar and twenty-five cents this week. We have been

building a cave in our yard to keep milk, fruit, and vegetables in

instead of a cellar. The country is so flat here that the cellars

have to be drained, and that makes them so expensive that a good

many people make caves. In making ours we dug down about three

feet, then sided up the hollow with heavy timbers which projected

two feet above the ground. Then we put a steep roof of boards over

the top. At one end we made a door and steps to go down, and at the

other end we put up a long square box for a ventilator. Then the

roof was covered with dirt about a foot deep and sodded over. The

cave looked like a little play house inside.

HARRY B. L.

* * * * *

DANBURY, CONNECTICUT.

I want to tell YOUNG PEOPLE about a funny little chicken. It was

born with only one leg and part of another. Papa is going to make

it a wooden leg.

I am twelve years old, and I have had hip-disease all winter. I

still wear a heavy weight, and have to stay in bed all the time. My

brother brings me YOUNG PEOPLE every week, and I enjoy it so much!

GEORGIE E. C.

* * * * *

The Post-office Box has received a long letter from little Johnnie F.,

of Warrenton, Missouri. It is all about a bird's nest with some dear

little eggs in it, which he has found in the orchard near his house, and

which nobody is going to disturb until the birdies are hatched and flown

away. We can not read one word of his little letter, but his papa

assures us that it is the whole story of the finding of the birdies'

home, and Master Johnnie himself has drawn a picture of the nest with

its five little eggs.

* * * * *

EDEN, GEORGIA.

I wish some of the little girls who write to the Post-office Box

would tell me some of their games. I am nine years old. I live in

the country, and I have two little sisters and one brother. One of

my sisters is a dear little baby, not much more than a year old.

She can say a few words.

FAIRLEY C.

* * * * *

NEW YORK CITY.

I think what are called sea-beans are those large seeds known as

ox-eyes. They are generally dark brown in color, but reddish and

gray ones are also found. They do not grow in the sea, but in pods

on large trees, which are found everywhere throughout the American

tropics. They are very abundant, and the fact that they are often

found strewn along sea-beaches, where they have drifted with the

tide, may account for their name of sea-bean.

As they are very hard, they are capable of taking a high polish,

and are often made into ornaments of different kinds.

In Cuba, where these beans are very abundant, they are the object

of certain curious superstitions among the native Indian

population. They are called _ojos de buey_ (ox-eyes), or

_cayahabos_, a word, the significance of which is evidently

key-bean, the trees often growing on the keys and coral islands.

The Indian women of Cuba boil these beans in a weak solution of

ashes in water until they become soft enough to pierce with a stout

wire, when they string them and make rosaries. They also string a

bean to hang around the necks of their babies, believing that it

will act as a charm against the evil-eye.

These beans grow very large in Cuba--as large as a good-sized

horse-chestnut--and are so very abundant that in many places they

cover the forest floor.

R. R.

Letters about the sea-bean have also been received from Charles Uhler,

E. Rowland, and others.

* * * * *

POMONA, CALIFORNIA.

Our cat has six cunning babies down in auntie's wood-house. One

morning, when they were only a few days old, pussy came very early

to get her milk, and she acted so queer that we all noticed her.

She would not eat, but kept going to mamma, and mewing real loud.

Then she would start down the path, and mew louder than ever, and

then turn back when she saw no one was following her. Finally,

mamma said pussy must have been frightened by some naughty dog, and

was afraid to go back alone. Mamma started to go with her, and puss

seemed so happy. She kept frisking about, and rubbing her glossy

head on mamma's dress. Mamma was in a hurry to finish some work, so

when she had gone half way she turned to come back, but puss lay

down in the path, and began to meow so piteously that mamma started

on again. When she reached the wood-house, and looked at the

kittens, puss was not satisfied, but acted as if she wanted mamma

to help her about something. Come to find out, one poor little

kitty had fallen into a hole where puss could not reach it. Mamma

reached down, and got the cold, half-dead little kit, and put it

with the rest, and then pussie's joy knew no bounds, and she

expressed her gratitude in every way she could. I wanted all the

YOUNG PEOPLE children to know about this wise, old mother-cat.

GEORGIE B. C.

* * * * *

I will give a genuine Indian bow and two arrows to any boy or girl

who will send me the largest and most rare amount of stamps (no

duplicates). Please send a postal stating how many, and what kind

of stamps you will give, and I will accept the best offer.

FRANK K. THOMAS,

P. O. Box 16, Lansing, Allamakee Co., Iowa.

* * * * *

My stock of coins and shells is exhausted, but I have some stamps

and postmarks for exchange. I will give twelve foreign stamps, for

any foreign coin except English; or eight postmarks, for one

foreign stamp.

W. M. WAITE,

36 Park Street, Lynn, Mass.

* * * * *

I will exchange a fac-simile of George Washington's signature, for

twenty-three common or three rare stamps. It is a genuine

fac-simile, for it is not engraved, but traced from his signature

in a book given to my great-great-grandfather by General George

Washington himself.

GEORGE C. BAKER, Comstocks, N. Y.

* * * * *

My brother takes YOUNG PEOPLE, and we were very sorry when the

story of "Toby Tyler" was ended.

We have five canaries, two old ones and three young ones. My

sister's bird is as dark as any wild bird except a blackbird. His

name is Bobby. One day mamma was passing through the hall, and

heard him making a strange noise. She went to the cage, and found a

chicken-snake twined in and out of the wires. She knocked the cage

down, and killed the snake, but it had already pulled some feathers

out of Bob's tail and neck.

I would like to exchange wild flowers, for sea-moss or

shells--sea-moss preferred.

JESSIE SHARP,

Madera, Fresno Co., Cal.

* * * * *

My stock of lava and fossilized fern is exhausted, but I have some

cones and sea-shells that came from Wales, that I would like to

exchange for a specimen of amethyst, iron pyrites, or other

minerals. I would like to have correspondents write before sending

specimens.

HARRY C.,

Bergen Point, Hudson Co., N. J.

* * * * *

My supply of arrow-heads is exhausted, but I will send petrified

wood, petrified moss, or postmarks to those correspondents I have

not yet answered.

HERBERT HOTALING,

P. O. Box 387, Mankato, Minn.

* * * * *

I will exchange ore, minerals, curiosities from Missouri, stamps,

postmarks, pressed holly leaves, petrified wood from Colorado, and

curious-shaped rocks from Hot Springs, Arkansas, for good agates,

good specimens of ore, or any kind of minerals, or any curiosities

except stamps and postmarks. I am especially anxious to obtain

sea-shells and ocean curiosities, a good specimen of copper, zinc,

or gold, and something from Mexico, South America, or Australia.

Specimens must not be less than two inches square. I have a choice

collection, and wish to obtain good things for it, and I will send

the same in return.

CORA GRIFFITH,

Calumet, Pike Co., Mo.

* * * * *

I withdraw my exchange which appeared in YOUNG PEOPLE No. 81, and I

now offer twenty-five specimens of minerals, twenty-five specimens

of woods, five pieces of Indian pottery, a tomahawk, a stamp album

which cost one dollar and twenty-five cents, a pocket mariners'

compass, and the numbers of YOUNG PEOPLE from 4 to 14, Vol. I.,

containing the stories of "Lady Primrose" and "Photogen and

Nycteris," for a printing-press and type. Correspondents will

please write describing press, and I will accept the best offer.

MADISON COOPER, JUN.,

Evans Mills, Jefferson Co., N. Y.

* * * * *

Olive H. Causey, Putnam, Conn., withdraws her name from our exchange

list, and requests parties who are owing her stamps to send them as soon

as possible.

Lizzie Henston, Trempealeau, Wis., and Robert W. Sherdton, Toronto,

Can., also withdraw their names.

* * * * *

We have received letters from S. Kelley, East Walnut Hills, near

Cincinnati, Ohio; George E. Wells, New York city: Minnie Miller,

Cincinnati, Ohio; E. P. Snively, Columbus, Ohio; Kenneth McKenzie,

Cambridge, Mass.; Harriette B. Woodruff, Lake Mahopac, N. Y.; and Will

and S. Hawkins, Steubenville, Ohio--all asking for addresses of careless

correspondents, in order that they may make return for favors received.

We have no room to specify all the different things which have been

received by these correspondents unaccompanied by any address; but if

any boys or girls are waiting impatiently to hear from any of them, they

must not accuse them of dishonesty or neglect, but blame themselves for

carelessness, by which they cause trouble, not only to the correspondent

who receives the nameless package, but also to the Post-office Box.

* * * * *

The following exchanges are offered by correspondents:

One of Scott's International Postage-stamp Albums of 1880, and a

collection of six hundred stamps, many rare, for a good foot-ball.

FRANK ALABASTER, P. O. Box 1423,

Ann Arbor, Washtenaw Co., Mich.

* * * * *

Stamps, minerals, and curiosities, including fossils, for postage

stamps and coins; also, a few United States postal cards of the old

issues, with printing on the back, but not otherwise used, for

Although the amusements of the girls are very few, sometimes they are