family it was into the drawing-room to see the old companions reunited,
and watch the joy of Juliet at the return of the loved one! I remember
the man with the paper cap followed us, as papa had not paid him, in his
excitement, and stood looking over our shoulders, as interested as
ourselves. Juliet fluttered her wings and uttered what we took for a cry
of joyful welcome, and Romeo was sent fluttering into the cage to rejoin
his long-lost mate.
Alas! the meeting was not an affectionate one after all, or some little
mistake had occurred, or Juliet was short-sighted and took Romeo for a
stranger; for Juliet went straight at Romeo, and once more made every
effort to peck his eye out, whilst Romeo, resenting the affront, or
bewildered by emerging from his paper bag to daylight, flew wildly about
the cage, and tried desperately to stretch Juliet a corpse at the bottom
of it. We were aroused and alarmed--we shed many tears. Tottie screamed.
A husky voice behind us said at this juncture: "Ah, that's the worst of
putting two Romeos in one cage, sir. It never answers--one of 'em's sure
to kill the other."
"Two Romeos!" exclaimed papa. "Do you mean to say that Juliet
isn't--isn't a female?"
"Bless your heart, sir, no."
"Good gracious! what a mistake of Uncle Benjamin's, to be sure!"
We have separated Romeo from Juliet now, and there is peace in the house
at last. I am not quite certain there is a moral to this story, unless
it is, "Do not judge by appearances," or proves that people who can not
agree together are much better apart.
SEA-BREEZES.
BESSIE MAYNARD TO HER DOLL.
BERLIN, _December_, 1880.
Yes, we are really in Europe at last, my Clytie. So much has happened
since I wrote last, that I don't know where to begin; and I shouldn't
have a nidear what I had written about if I didn't keep a "mimete" of my
letters, as papa says, in a little memberandum-book he gave me.
Everything I put down in it he calls an "entry." Funny to have a
book full of _entries_, isn't it? Well, this is the last one;
"Steamer--seasick--got over it--fun with R. and N.--dance on deck--will
write next about Captain's birthday, etsetterer."
But now the birthday seems ages ago, and all that I can say about it is
that the Captain was forty-five years old and we had a neligant time,
with all sorts of things for dinner, and a birthday cake as big as a
flower bed, with forty-five colored tapers, and every single slice had
one or more presents in it, so we all got something. The Captain found
in his piece a gold ring and a china Cupid, and a donkey with great long
ears and his mouth wide open. Mamma had a stone cigar, and papa a
_thimble_; and in my slice was the teentiest tontiest china doll not
more than half an inch long. I keep her in a cradle made of a pecan-nut,
and she's the cunningest child you ever saw. I've named her "Wee Tot,"
for the little girl who writes sometimes in my YOUNG PEOPLE's
Post-office Box.
A week after the birthday we derived at Bremen, and I was awfully sorry
to leave the steamer, for it seemed almost like home. We had to say
good-by to everybody, and it was real sad.
Papa, mamma, and I came away by ourselves, Cousin Frank and Cousin
Carrie (and oh, Clytie, she is just _perfeckly eligant_!) went some
other roundabout way from Bremen, and the Peytons are going to Paris
first; but by-and-by our party will come together again, and we shall
proberly live in the same house, or at least in the same place, for the
winter.
_We_ are at Aunt Mary's now. She lives here in Berlin, and is mamma's
auntie as well as mine. She _used_ to live in Cambridge when she was a
little girl, and was dear great-grandma's truly baby once! I never saw
her before, but I love her already. Uncle Max has gray hair, and wears
speckertles, and carries a cane, and so I suppose he's _old_, but he
plays with us children, and you can't help laughing just to hear _him_
laugh, and he sings funny songs to us, and he doesn't _seem_ any older
than Randolph. He keeps us having a good time from morning till night;
and guess how many children there are. But you never _could_ guess.
There's _eight_ right here in the house, and all of them belong to Uncle
Max and Aunt Mary.
Gretchen and Wilhelm are quite grown up, but Ilsie wears short dresses,
and her hair in two long braids; Lisbet isn't any taller than I; Karl is
eight years old, Fritz is six, and cunning little Max and Marie are
three-year-old twins.
The nursery is the jolliest room in the house. The floor is bare, and
polished like glass. The stove reaches almost to the ceiling, and is
made of white porcelain covered all over with the prettiest little baby
figures. They are raised 'way up, you know, and their arras are as round
and fat as a real doll's. Some of them are playing tag, some are in
swings or wading in brooks, and all round the top of the stove is a row
of little angels. Wouldn't you like to see a stove like that? In the
bay-window there are lots of plants, and three cages full of
canary-birds, besides another cage, 'most as big as a bureau, for the
parrot. He is gray, with red tips to his wings, and a green collar round
his neck, and he calls all the children's names, and says "Guten
Morgen," "Gute Nacht," "Schlafe wohl," "Wie geht's" (Good-morning,
Good-night, Sleep well, How do you do?), and he sings and whistles, and
is just as happy as the rest of the family.
And now tell me, was Jack's nose really broken, or only cracked, as we
hoped when I came away, and did the glue-liniment do him any good? I
_long_ to know if poor little Mopsy can use her arm yet, or does she
still wear it in a sling? Do they all mind you, Clytie, and is Leonora
getting over her vain and silly ways? Don't fail to suppress upon her
that "handsome _is_ that handsome _does_," and of all things, don't
allow her to be imperent to the others.
Give my love to George Washington and Lafayette, and tell them that of
all the soldier-dolls on parade in the shops here (and there are whole
regiments of them), I haven't seen one I would change for them. Papa
says, "In military bearing they are equal to any we find here," and I
agree with him. It is a great compliment, too, for Germany is full of
soldiers.
Lisbet is calling me to go with her in the little goat-phaeton for a
drive in the park. The next time I write I will tell you about this
cunning little phaeton.
Gute Nacht--träume süss, as they say here. It means just what I say to
you at home, Good-night and pleasant dreams.
Your loving mamma,
BESSIE MAYNARD.
P.S.--Please tell Cousin Fanny, who reads my letters to you, that I do
wish she would be your meanuensis, and write to me for you. If she looks
close in your eyes, she can see what you will want to say, even if you
do not speak, and a letter from you would be _such_ a comfort to your
anxious mamma.
A SAILOR'S WIFE.
There have been heroines as well as heroes on the sea, and of these Mrs.
Annie Wilson is certainly one. When she was fourteen years of age, she
married the captain of a vessel sailing from Boston, and for seven years
accompanied him on his voyages around the world, without accident.
But in 1872 the ship encountered a terrible storm off the banks of
Newfoundland. The captain was knocked down and his shoulder was broken
by the fall of one of the masts. The first mate and several of the crew
were also disabled, and the second mate was so frightened that he could
not give any orders. The captain was carried down, lashed on a door,
into the cabin; and when his wife saw him rendered helpless in this way,
instead of yielding to useless lamentations, she only thought of what
she could do to supply his place. She rushed on deck, and called the men
around her.
"Boys, our lives are in danger," she said; "but stick to me, and do what
I tell you. I'll take you into port all right."
She set them to work to clear away the wreck; they manned the pumps; and
when the gale had subsided a little, they rigged up a jury-mast, under
their new captain's orders, set sail again, and in twenty-one days the
ship was safely anchored at St. Thomas.
After the necessary repairs had been made there, and as her husband was
still quite helpless, the brave woman worked the ship to Liverpool, and
made the voyage in thirty days. After this, she settled down in New
York, and for seven years has supported her crippled husband and her
child by working as a clerk in a dry-goods store in this city.
A few months ago her husband died, and Secretary Sherman has appointed
her to the post of inspectress in the New York Custom-house.
[Begun in Harper's YOUNG PEOPLE No. 66, February 1.]
PHIL'S FAIRIES.
BY MRS. W. J. HAYS,
AUTHOR OF "PRINCESS IDLEWAYS," ETC.
CHAPTER IV.
A PROMISE OF BETTER TIMES.
When Phil was alone again, he waited impatiently for the long twilight
to end in darkness, and the stars to come out. It seemed a very long
time. Once in a while a faint murmur came from his harp, but it was a
mere breathing of sound, and he turned restlessly in his chair. Then he
closed his eyes and waited again, and his waiting was rewarded by a
small voice in his ear whispering,
"Here we are, here we are."
"Oh," said Phil, "I thought you never would come again."
[Illustration: PHIL'S DREAM.]
"Tut, tut, child, you must not be so doubtful," said the little voice
again, and the starry coronet gleamed in his eyes.
"I have brought you some sweet odors of wild flowers, and spicy breath
of pine and hemlock, for I thought you needed a tonic."
Phil smelled something exquisite as she spoke, but all he said was,
"What is a tonic?"
"Something the doctors give when children are pale and thin, and do not
have enough fresh air. I don't pretend to know what it means, but I
often go to see sick children in hospitals, and so I hear about such
things."
"Hark! is that my wind harp?--why, it sounds like water dropping and
gurgling over stones."
"It is the song of a mountain brook that my friends are singing as they
dance over your harp. Look!"
Phil looked, and saw the flock of fairies like white butterflies
swarming again over his harp, and heard the soft sweet singing which
kept time to their steps.
"Oh, how beautiful! how beautiful!" said Phil.
"When you hear a brook singing, you must remember us," said the fairy.
"Indeed I will; but I am afraid I shall never hear one: only the hoarse
cries of the street and the rumbling of wagons come to me here."
"Ah, better times are coming; then you will not need us."
Phil lay still in his chair, listening intently; the white figures
glanced in shadowy indistinctness across the window, only the starry ray
from each little brow lighting their dance. They swept up and down, and
swayed like flowers in a breeze, and still the little clear notes of
their song fell like dripping water in cool cascades. Now it flowed
smoothly and softly, again it seemed to dash and foam among pebbly
nooks.
"Does it rest you? Are you better?" asked the one little fairy who did
all the talking.
"Oh, so much!" said Phil.
After a while the song stopped, and the fairies drew all together in a
cluster, and were quite still.
"What does that mean?" asked Phil.
"They are disturbed; there is a storm coming. We shall have to return."
"I am so sorry! I wanted to know more about you, and to see what you
wear."
"Mortals must not approach us too nearly. We may draw near to you. See,
I will stand before you."
"You seem to be all moon-shine," said Phil.
"Yes," said the fairy, laughing merrily; "these robes of ours are of
mountain mist, spangled with star-dust so fine that it makes us only
glisten. We have to wear the lightest sort of fabric, so that we are not
hindered in our long flights."
"Do you know flower fairies?"
"Yes; but we are of a very different race. I suppose you thought we
dressed in rose leaves and rode on bumble-bees; but we do not; we are
more--now for a long word--more ethereal." And again the fairy laughed.
"Ether means air," said Phil, quite proudly. "Do you know any fairy
stories?" he asked.
"Yes; shall I tell you one next time I come?"
"Oh do, please. So you _will_ come again."
"Yes, if I can. Now I must go. I thought I heard distant thunder. We
must fly so fast!--so fast! Good-by, good-by."
There was a long rumbling of thunder far off in the distance, and a
cooler air in the hot, close room. Phil lay and dreamed, wondering how
long it took the wind fairies to reach their home. Then the sweet spicy
odors came to him again, and he lifted the languid flowers Miss Schuyler
had brought him, and put them in his glass of water.
He dreamed of fair green fields and meadows, of silent lakes bordered
with rushes, out of which sprang wild fowl slowly flapping their broad
wings; of forests thick and dark, where on fallen trees the green moss
had grown in velvet softness; of mountains lifting their purple tops
into the fleecy clouds, and of long shady country roads winding in and
out and about the hills; of lanes bordered with blackberry bushes and
sumac, clematis and wild rose; of dewy nooks full of ferns; of the songs
of birds and the chirp of insects; and it seemed to him that he must put
some of all this beauty into some shape of his own creation--picture or
poem, song or speech; and then came a sudden sharp twinge of pain, and
the brightness faded, and the room was dark, and he was hungry, and only
poor little Phil, sick and sad and weary and poor.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
PINAFORE RHYMES.
[Illustration]
Here is a chorus
Of boys and girls,
Wee little darlings,
Dear little pearls.
Hear their sweet voices,
Like tinkling chimes,
Merrily singing
Pinafore rhymes.
Mothers and sisters,
Cousins and aunts,
Listen delighted
To their little chants.
Here they are printed,
So you may see
What they are singing
So merrily.
[Illustration]
Annie, Mary, and Kate,
Each busy with pencil and slate,
Three pretty pictures are making;
Just see the pains they are taking,
So eager, and still, and sedate!
But now it is growing quite late,
They put away pencil and slate;
And because they've been good in their classes,
They get some nice bread and molasses,
And swing on the garden gate.
[Illustration]
Your servant, madam! I must say
The bathing's very bad to-day;
The water never was so wet,
And colder, too, than ever yet;
I'm sure 'tis down to five degrees,
And I'm afraid you'd surely freeze.
A shark and sword-fish, too, have come,
And made themselves too much at home;
And just now, on the bath-house stair,
A water-witch sat combing her hair.
You can try it, madam, if you please,
But if they don't eat you up, you'll freeze.
[Illustration]
Cuckoo!
Where are you?
I've been hunting all about,
And I wish you would come out!
Have you hid in the big fire-place,
Or the clock, or the porcelain vase,
Or flown to the top of the house,
Or crawled into his hole with the mouse?
It's awful mean to hide away,
When I want you to go out and play!
Boo! here I am, my little sis;
Now give me the sweetest, nicest kiss!
[Illustration]
Oh, such a funny dream I had when I was fast asleep;
I saw a lot of baby tots out of their cradles leap;
They threw away their rattles and their little ivory rings,
And joined their little hands to dance, the darling little things!
"Hurrah! hurrah!" they gayly sang; "we're on a jolly strike;
The nurse's rule is over now, and we do what we like;
We'll go to bed just when we please, and sit up at the table,
And eat whatever old folks do, as long as we are able.
"And if the nurses fret and scold, we'll put them all to bed,
And tell them not to make a noise, as they have often said;
They'll be afraid of getting whipped, and will not dare to peep."
And that's the funny dream I had when I was fast asleep.
[Illustration: OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.]
EUREKA, NEVADA.
There are lots of silver mines near here. One day we went into the
tunnel in Uncle Dick's mine. We all had candles--oh, it was so
dark!--and I got some pretty specimens my own self. We rode almost
fifty miles that same day, and had our dinner on the grass, near
some springs. I thought it was ever so nice.
There are furnaces here where the silver, gold, and lead are
"cooked" out of the ore. Papa sometimes takes us there, and I
always want to stay longer, although the noise of the machinery
almost makes my head crazy.
We used to have some periwinkles and some bugs in a glass jar, and
lovely water-cresses growing, too. Mamma put the jar under the
faucet every morning, and let the water run slowly to freshen it
without disturbing "the family." The periwinkles ate the cress,
and the bugs ate each other, until there was only one left; then
he began to dine on the periwinkles; so we planted them all out in
the ditch.
I am a little boy five years old, and my mamma wrote this for me.
Brother and I take YOUNG PEOPLE. We save them all, and we think
everything of them.
GEORGIE B. C.
* * * * *
CROSS VILLAGE, MICHIGAN.
I love _Young People_ very much. We live near old Fort Mackinac,
where the Indians once played a game of ball to mislead the white
men, and then surprised and took the fort, killing nearly all the
troops.
There are many Indians living here now. They are mostly of the
Ottawa tribe. We live in an old Indian "garden." I have found an
ancient tomahawk, a hoe, and a ladle.
I am seven years old, and I can read in the Fourth Reader.
E. CLAIR S.
* * * * *
DOUGLAS CITY, CALIFORNIA.
I live up in the mountains of Northern California, in Trinity
County. Although this place is called a city, it is only a small
town. There are a great many Portuguese families living here, but
only a few Americans.
I go to school eight months in the year. Last year I attended
school at Honolulu, Sandwich Islands. I enjoyed my stay there very
much. I lived with my uncle. I was introduced to King Kalakaua and
Queen Kapiolani, and I had a good opportunity of seeing the
manners and customs of the people.
SADIE T.
* * * * *
PORTLAND, OREGON.
We think there is no paper that can excel YOUNG PEOPLE. There are
seven of us children. We have a few curiosities. We have two vases
made of lava from Herculaneum.
There were two British barks lost on the coast here.
I am nine years old, and am a constant reader of YOUNG PEOPLE.
HENRY BISMARCK. T.
* * * * *
BALTIMORE, MARYLAND.
We boys are having splendid coasting here. In the park near my home
great numbers of boys and girls coast on the hills, and in many of
the streets the boys coast four or five blocks without stopping.
I am going to have two very small alligators, which I can handle
and play with, and I have a pet lizard, which I have kept in a
glass globe for a year.
COLEMAN C. A.
* * * * *
NACOOCHEE, GEORGIA.
I have read every story, letter, and advertisement in YOUNG PEOPLE
ever since it was published. I think it is the best paper printed
for young folks. The exchange department is the grandest of all. I
commenced with a few Indian arrow-heads, and now I have a good
collection of minerals, shells, and curiosities of various kinds,
and am constantly receiving letters from new exchanges. The
"wiggles," too, are very interesting. There is nothing that gives
me so much pleasure as making "wiggles" or packing boxes of
curiosities to send off.
Many good wishes to YOUNG PEOPLE, and may it ever be as bright and
beautiful as now!
JOHN R. G.
* * * * *
FACTORY POINT, VERMONT.
I wrote a letter to YOUNG PEOPLE a little while ago, when I was at
grandpa's. My papa came after me, but I am very lonely now, for my
little playmate, my dear little sister Annie, died of diphtheria
while I was gone. I used to read the stories in YOUNG PEOPLE to
her. I have a little dog, and I used to play lots with him, but I
do not feel like playing any more.
CHARLIE C.
* * * * *
CARROLL, OHIO.
I read all the letters in the Post-office Box every week with so
much pleasure that I can hardly wait till my paper comes. Mamma
gave it to me for a Christmas present.
My papa is agent at Crow Agency, Montana, and mamma and my brother
and sister are there with him. I live with my uncle, and I go to
school every day. Last spring papa was here, and he brought six
Indians with him. They were very large Indians. One of them
weighed two hundred and sixty-five pounds, and was over six feet
tall.
DANIEL M. K.
* * * * *
GETTYSBURG, PENNSYLVANIA.
We have had sleighing here for a long time, and first-rate
coasting. All the hills around the town are crowded every night,
and we coast by torch-light. I have two good sleds of my own.
DAVIE B.
* * * * *
NYACK-ON-THE-HUDSON, NEW YORK.
I live in the country, and I have very nice times. There has been
skating on the Hudson River almost all winter. We have very fine
hills here. I have a pair of bobs. As many as seven boys can get on
it, and it goes very fast indeed. I hope it will snow more, and
make the coasting better.
WILLIE G.
* * * * *
I have been taking YOUNG PEOPLE for a year, and I think it is the
best paper ever published.
I have a pet monkey named Jacko. He is up to all sorts of tricks.
He will put wood on the fire, and put on the tea-kettle.
I would like to exchange minerals, for ocean curiosities.
The snow here is six feet deep.
E. G. KELLY,
816 East Eighth Street, Leadville, Colorado.
* * * * *
FORT WAYNE, INDIANA, _January_ 30, 1881.
I wish to inform my correspondents that I have no more curiosities
to exchange at present. I have sent for some more, but it will be
some time before I get them.
WILLIAM C. MCCONNELL.
* * * * *
I was born on the Island of Curaçao, in the Dutch West Indies, and
I can get many stamps from there and from the United States of
Colombia, which I would like to exchange for others with readers of
YOUNG PEOPLE in the United States or Canada.
J. DESOLA,
1051 Lexington Avenue, New York City.
* * * * *
WASHINGTON COURT-HOUSE, OHIO.
I have had over twenty applications for my arrow-head, and could
only answer one. If I can get any more arrow-heads, I will send
word to my correspondents.
EMMER EDWARDS.
* * * * *
I have just begun a collection of stones, and have only a very few.
I have three white flints, which I thought were petrified birds'
eggs at first, which I would like to exchange for ocean
curiosities. I expect to receive some better flints in a few weeks.
I am nine years old.
BERTHA BOOTH,
Anamosa, Jones County, Iowa.
* * * * *
I want to tell YOUNG PEOPLE what a pleasant winter we are having in
the Sierra Nevada Mountains, three thousand feet above the sea. We
have no snow. I found willow "pussies" on the 18th of January, and
sister Bell found some spring flowers two days later.
Our dog Rover went hunting, and came home with his nose full of
porcupine quills. Papa had a hard time pulling them out, it hurt
Rover so badly.
I do not go to school in the winter. I study at home. I study
language lessons, arithmetic, botany, spelling, and geography. I
am eight years old. I want to take YOUNG PEOPLE always.
I will exchange minerals from the mines, for shells or any other
curiosities, with any readers of the Post-office Box.
LOU R. KEEP, Smiths Hill,
East Branch of Feather River, California.
* * * * *
I would like to exchange stamps of the United States Treasury and
State Departments, postmarks, and Canadian and foreign postage
stamps, for rare stamps and postmarks, or for specimens of ores,
minerals, or shells. Correspondents will please label specimens.
I am ten years old.
WILLIE M. BLOSS,
U. S. Consulate-General, Montreal, Canada.
* * * * *
I would like to exchange a pair of new nickle-plated club skates,
which I do not need, as I have another pair, for any other similar
article.
W. J. H.,
343 Fifth Avenue, New York City.
* * * * *
LUCKNOW, _November_ 30, 1880.
MY DEAR YOUNG PEOPLE,--When I last wrote to you, it was in the
midst of the hot season; now it is a little cooler, but not much,
and we have been through dreadful times since then. Though I don't
often write to the Post-office Box, I love dearly to read all the
letters the children send to it.
Our baby wasn't very well in the dreadful hot weather, and so
mamma and I had to take him to the hills, where it is cool and
nice. Of course we took his nurse and the khansaman (housekeeper)
too; the rest of the help we get there, because we keep house just
the same as here. Papa couldn't go, because the paper has to be
printed, if it is hot, and they can't get it ready without him, so
we went alone to Naina Tal. Mamma says Tal means lake, and Naina
is the name of a goddess that people thought (in the old days, you
know, when they had goddesses) presided over the lake.